


Chronicles of the Selphia Plains

by HalcyonEve



Series: The Winds of Adonea [2]
Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: Backstory, Multi, One Shot Collection, Side Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3384275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalcyonEve/pseuds/HalcyonEve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of one-shots and short stories that focus on the characters from The Winds of the Past. Originally posted on FFNet as "Three Little Words and Other Tales." They cover a wide range of topics and relationships, and range from G to M, some possibly may even be borderline E. Some stories do include abuse, non-con/rape, and other darker topics. See notes at the start of each story for any warnings that apply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Little Words

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Rune Factory 4, most locations and many of the characters in the story, and the game's plot belong to Neverland Co. and XSEED Games. The story plot and some characters and locations are my own invention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events in this short story take place near the start of Chapter 29 of The Winds of the Past, so I highly recommend you read at least to that point before reading this, otherwise some things may be a little confusing. Rated M for some brief lemon.

Barrett had never imagined that three little words could change his life so much.

“I’m leaving you,” Yue had said, flatly, early that morning as she packed her clothing. “It’s over. I’m taking the kids and going back to my home town. It’s for the best.”

“For the best?” he’d asked, dazed and confused. “Best for who?”

“For everyone,” she replied, then turned and faced him, eyes blazing. “You’re hardly ever home anymore. You’re always working—or so I had thought. Now I’m not even sure about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t bother to lie to me, Barrett. You’re wasting your time and mine. I stopped by the school yesterday to say hello, and you weren’t there. Not only that, but they told me that you’d been on a leave of absence for the past few _weeks_! Then, as if that wasn’t enough, I _also_ heard you’d been seen over in Selphia a lot lately—and even spotted going off ‘monster hunting’ with some green-haired lass.”

She turned her back on him, resuming her packing. “Let’s be honest, for once. You never loved me. I was just a rebound fling after Dorothy up and left you for Kyle. You’d never even have married me if not for Leonel. You hardly even touched me after we got married, except once when you were drunk. And I bet even then it was Dorothy you were thinking of, not me.” She sighed heavily. “I’m tired of the lies, Barrett. Tired of pretending everything’s fine, when it _isn’t_. So I’m leaving. The kids and I will be happier not always wondering where you are or when you’ll come home to us, and you’ll have your freedom again.”

Barrett watched her, too numb to try to stop her. Or perhaps he just recognized the truth of her words. He’d never really gotten over Dorothy—his first and only love. And she was right, too, that he wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t gotten pregnant. He’d have ended the fling and moved on before long. Instead he’d found himself a family man. He did love his kids, though, and froze at the thought of never seeing them again. Finally, he said in a low voice, “If this is what you want, I won’t try to stop you. But I’d like to see our kids from time to time. I’ll send you money to help with their expenses. Just send me word where you’re living once you’re settled.” And he turned and left.

When he returned to his house that evening, after another day of research in Selphia, he found it was empty. His wife—ex-wife, he supposed, or would be soon—had taken everything that was hers or the kids’ with her. She had taken most of the furniture, too. Fair enough, he thought. She’d picked it all out herself, and probably had paid for at least half of it with her own income. He wandered through the lonely rooms, cringing a little at the emptiness of the kids’ rooms and wishing he’d woken them to tell them goodbye. He was relieved, though, that the charade was over and he didn’t have to pretend anymore.

He locked up and returned to Selphia by a late-night airship, preferring the inevitable airsickness to the desolation of the silent house. Luckily, there was a room available on the top floor of the inn. The two rooms on either side of him were also occupied by long-term lodgers. To the west was the reticent red-haired young woman called Raven, who was there in search of rare ores and who peddled smithing materials. The room to the east was occupied by the mysterious and intelligent man with a fox’s tail and ears called Leon. He was the one that Avani had rescued, at great personal risk, from the tall tower of Leon Karnak, that mystical tower that had merged with the alien Forest of Beginnings. He’d played a small part in that rescue by providing the unique artifact that had summoned a return portal to Selphia.

Leon seemed to have settled into life in the town fairly well, and it also appeared that he and Avani had become more than good friends. He often spotted the two of them chatting and laughing together, and had caught some of the looks that passed between them. And Leon was rarely in his room these days… or nights, as was the case tonight. Barrett unpacked and went to bed, where he slept poorly, waking often and finally rising early.

* * *

 

Avani usually stopped to visit with Barrett when he was in town—chatting with him about his classes and school or asking after his family, and sometimes asking him to join her either in training or out in the field, fighting infestations of monsters. After a time, they’d become friends of a sort, though he wasn’t really the sociable type. Still, he didn’t object to her conversation as a rule—but that morning, he cringed when she asked after his kids. “Is something wrong?” she asked, peering into his peaked face anxiously.

“No. I’ll talk to you later,” he replied, quickly turning to walk away.

She grabbed his wrist, though, and refused to let him go. “Barrett, listen to me. I’ve known you for a while now. We’ve been on a number of campaigns together, fighting back-to-back against hordes of monsters. I consider you my friend, and I don’t like to see my friends unhappy.”

She looked around, noting the midday bustle of the town streaming past them as they stood on the busy street near the airship dock. “Here, come with me,” she said, and dragged him along behind her. She went down a short flight of stairs that led into a tidy garden full of fruits, vegetables, and flowers. A well-maintained barn was nestled among a few shade trees, and he could hear the sounds of tame monsters coming from within, lowing and clucking and bleating contentedly.

There were three doors leading from the gardens into the castle—western, central, and eastern doors. It was through the eastern door that she pulled him, leading him into what was apparently the main chamber of her private suite of rooms. He looked around, blinking as his eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight to the relative darkness of the room. “Have a seat, Barrett,” Avani said. “I’ll make some lunch, and then we can talk. You like salmon, right?”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite,” he replied tonelessly. She raised an eyebrow at his lack of enthusiasm, but said nothing as she disappeared into another room.

He looked around the chamber—he’d never been into her rooms before. This was quite a large room, nearly as large as a small cottage might be. In the corner to his left was a large, comfortable-looking bed, neatly made up and covered with a sumptuous coverlet. Near the foot of the bed was a doorway with stairs leading up to a very solid-looking door. A large wardrobe stood between this doorway and a bay window hung with heavy draperies in the front of the room, facing the courtyard. A matching bay window was placed on the other side of her front door. Continuing around the periphery of the room, he saw an interior door that, presumably, led to the rest of the castle, then a large fireplace with a sofa and a couple of chairs arranged around a low table placed before it. Next, immediately to his right, was a flight of stairs leading downward, then behind him was two doors —the first being the one they had come through, and the second apparently leading into a kitchen, judging from the appealing scents of good food coming from within.

He sat gingerly on one of the chairs by the crackling fire, not at all sure he wanted to be there but also acknowledging to himself that he had nowhere else to go. He’d always been a loner, and nine years of marriage to the wrong woman had done nothing to alter that. The only one whose company he’d ever really enjoyed—had sought out, even—was Dorothy. But then she’d fallen in love with Kyle and left him. She was happily married to that day, with twins near his own son’s age—a boy and a girl, both spitting images of their father.

As he was reminiscing, Avani returned, carrying a tray laden with dishes of grilled salmon, rice, pickles, and stir-fried vegetables, as well as a glass of juice and a large, frosty tankard of ale. She set the food on the small table at the center of the seating arrangement, handed him the tankard, and returned the tray to the kitchen. After pushing the table over a little closer to his chair upon her return, she sat on the end of the sofa nearest to him. “Now then, eat up before it gets cold,” she said, smiling at him.

He hesitated, still feeling reluctant. But then his stomach growled loudly, and he became aware of a gnawing hunger as he realized he’d not eaten since breakfast the day before. Seeing her watching him with a knowing look in her eyes, he scowled and picked up his rice bowl. He took a small bite of his salmon, and thought it was the best he’d ever tasted. Then hunger overwhelmed his sensibilities, and he dove in, eating the rest of his meal voraciously. Avani smiled to herself as she delicately nibbled her small meal and contemplated him from the corner of her eyes.

When Barrett had nearly finished, she wordlessly rose and went into the kitchen, returning a moment later with reinforcements as well as a pot of tea. She placed the food before him, clearing their empty dishes and taking them back to the kitchen before returning to her seat. She sat sipping her tea as she waited until his appetite had been sated enough to allow conversation. “So… what’s up, Barrett? You look like you haven’t slept well lately, you’re more close-lipped than usual, and it appears you haven’t been eating. That’s not like you. From the way you reacted when I asked about your family, I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess things aren’t exactly hunky-dory at home. Is that it?”

“You could say that,” he muttered as he reached for the tankard.

“You know, Barrett, I’m told that I’m an excellent listener,” Avani said gently. “Why don’t you talk about it? You’ll feel better if you don’t just hold it all in.”

He hesitated, then shrugged, saying, “Whatever. It’s just… Yue left me yesterday. Packed up all her stuff, the kids, and most of our furniture and left. Said she was going back to her home town.”

Avani sat up straight, saying, “Barrett, that’s terrible! I’m so very sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll miss the kids, but to be honest…” and here he hesitated again, “…to be honest, I never really loved her anyway. And she knew it.”

“Why on earth did you marry her then?” Avani asked, then clapped a hand over her mouth, exclaiming, “Oops, sorry! I know, it’s none of my business.”

Barrett shook his head as he took another swallow of the cool, amber liquid. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.” Another swallow, and he continued. “When I was younger—around your age, maybe, or maybe even younger—I’d fallen in love with the priest’s daughter. Dorothy was her name. I was a loner, always had been. Just didn’t care for the company of others. But she was… different. I learned to appreciate people a little more, thanks to her. But… then she fell in love with another man.” A couple of long pulls at his ale as he thought back. “I’d never come right out and told her how I felt, although I think she suspected. I don’t know. It didn’t matter, anyway, once she married Kyle. I was… heartbroken. Then Yue came along, and she had this… this… bewitching way about her. I thought maybe I could forget Dorothy by taking up with someone else. I was wrong. I was just on the verge of breaking it off with her when she told me she was pregnant. With _my_ baby. So I did what seemed like the right thing and married her. But I wasn’t happy, and soon, neither was she. I tried to hide it, because I didn’t want our son to feel our unhappiness. But I’m not good at that kind of thing—faking things, I mean. And after we got married, I could hardly stand to touch her.”

“But didn’t you say you also had a baby daughter?” Avani asked, caught up in his tale.

Barrett winced a little and drained his tankard. “Yes. The result of a night of heavy drinking. It was Yue in my bed, but… it was Dorothy that I saw. That’s the only time I touched her after we were married, and Yuri was the result.”

He picked up his tea and leaned back in his chair, closing his vivid azure eyes as he took a sip. A moment later he opened them again and looked thoughtfully at Avani. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’m not normally talkative, especially about myself.”

She smiled again, saying, “Like I told you, I’m supposed to be a good listener. People come to me with their problems all the time.”

“Still….” he said, then with a shrug he drained his cup and set it down as he rose. “Thanks for the lunch. I guess I needed it more than I realized. I’ll catch you later.” And he was gone. Avani stared at the door where he’d disappeared for some time, looking thoughtful.

* * *

 

That night as she lay in Leon’s arms, both of them still damp with sweat from their lovemaking, she gazed at him with a hesitant look in her eyes. “Yes, My Lady?” he said with a smile as he stroked her hair affectionately. “You appear to have something on your mind. What is it?”

“It… it’s a little hard to explain. I have… I guess a favor of sorts to ask of you, but I think you won’t want to grant it. You _may_ even be angry with me just for asking. But… well, will you please hear me out?”

“Of course. Tell me all about it,” he replied, looking surprised and a little concerned.

She sat up and turned to face him, the sheet loosely draped around her, and proceeded to explain. “You know Barrett, of course?”

He nodded; the knowledgeable but reserved Alvarnan scholar had consulted him a few times, inquiring about the old languages and scripts that Leon knew from his era.

She hesitated, then said, “He told me this in strict confidence, so please, Leo, don’t say anything to him or anyone else. I’m only telling you because I need to, in order to try to help him.”

Again he nodded; as the former Dragon Priest, he’d heard—and kept—his fair share of confidences. He looked at her expectantly, wondering at her hesitation.

“Well… it seems that his wife took their kids and left him yesterday. Apparently their marriage was not a happy one, and he couldn’t even bring himself to touch her after they were married except once—and then only because he’d gotten so drunk he hardly knew what he was doing.”

Leon shook his head sadly. “That’s an unfortunate situation to be in. Divorce is probably for the best, though avoiding such a marriage in the first place would have been preferable,” he remarked.

“There’s more, though. It seems he was in love with a girl who loved another man. And I think he is in love with her still, even though she’s apparently happily married. I think that inside, he’s something of a wreck—a bundle of nerves and strain and fear and resentment, and probably a lot of other things as well. And… and I want to try to help him.”

“Okay… so where does this favor you wish to ask of me come in?” Leon asked warily.

Avani took a deep breath, then averted her eyes as she replied, “I… I want to seduce him.”

“What?” Leon exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. “How the _hell_ is that supposed to help?”

“It… it might sound a little strange, but I’m hoping that it’ll get him to… to drop his defenses, at least for a short while. And maybe if I can get him to just _relax_ a little, then that whole tangled mess inside of him will begin to unravel. If he can begin to resolve things in his head and heart, maybe he can move past his fixation and be happy. I _know_ it probably sounds crazy… but it’s the only thing I can think of that might help him.”

“So, let me get this straight… your favor is that you want me, your lover, to allow you to have a one-night-stand with another man? Is _that_ it? And why do you want so badly to help him, anyway?” he asked, frowning at her, feeling pangs of jealousy deep down inside that he was unwilling to acknowledge even to himself.

She looked up at him, saying simply, “Because he’s my friend, and I can’t bear to see him hurting like this. And… you might not realize this, but we owe a lot to him. He was the one who gave me the ring that saved you—the ring that opened the portal to Selphia and pulled you through. When I told you that _everyone_ in town wanted to save you, I meant it—even Barrett, who’s not even from this town, wanted to help. And now… now _he’s_ the one that needs help.”

Leon sighed, saying with a faint smile, “Well, I suppose he’d not appreciate it if _I_ tried to seduce him in your place?”

Avani grinned, laughing, “No, I suspect not. I mean, you never know, but I’ve never seen any sign that he would welcome such advances.”

Leon looked into her eyes. “I can’t say I approve of your plan. And I’m _certainly_ not happy to think of another man in your bed, though I do at least appreciate your candor.” He frowned in thought for a moment. “What about Dylas? Will you tell him of your plan, as well?”

It was Avani’s turn to frown. “No. You _know_ that he has no say in what I do at this time.”

“Does that mean that I do?” Leon asked her with a grin.

“Maybe not a _say_ exactly, but you _are_ entitled to an opinion, which Dylas is _not_ —not for the present time, anyway,” she replied.

Leon lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. “Like I said, I’m not happy about it, nor can I say I approve of it. But I said from the beginning that, as I was bound by a promise made long ago, I wouldn’t tie you down, and I stand by that. If you feel this is what you must do, then do it. Just be very certain of yourself before you put your plan into action, because that is _not_ a step that, once taken, can be undone.”

He rolled onto his side and pulled her down to him with a wicked grin, saying, “And keep in mind that I might have to find other… _distractions_ , to keep my mind off of what you’re doing.”

She laughed, saying, “Be my guest, just as long as you tell me first. You know I would never stop you as long as you’re honest with me.”

He nipped her neck, then murmured plaintively into her ear, “Can’t you at least _pretend_ to be even a little bit jealous?”

She flipped him over then and pushed him down into the softness of the bed, straddling him as she held him down by his arms and leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose, his eyelids, the sensitive spot on his throat right below his jaw line, and finally whispered into his mouth, sending little thrills down his spine, “I am _insanely_ jealous,” before covering him with her kisses.

* * *

 

The next morning, after her morning chores and her visit to the baths at the inn, Avani set out to find Barrett. She caught up to him in Arthur’s offices, poring over some of the old scrolls there and deep in discussion with both Arthur and Leon. As she walked in, both Arthur and Leon lit up at the sight of her. Then Leon frowned, glancing at Barrett and quickly away, feeling that hateful, gnawing, ache deep in his gut as he realized her errand there. He excused himself, not wanting to hang around to watch his lover begin to seduce another.

As he hurried toward the door, Avani caught his hand, and held on to it for a moment, giving it a hard squeeze as she looked into his eyes, silently reassuring him. Then she released him, and he left. Despite his teasing threats, he knew he’d never seek out the company of another woman in his bed. He resigned himself to a fitful night alone in his room at the inn, and briefly considered spending it drunk before rejecting the idea—he didn’t know what he might do in that condition.

After Leon’s departure, Avani turned with a smile to Arthur, chatting with him briefly about a new pair of eyeglasses he’d added to his collection recently. Then she turned to Barrett with a cheerful, sweet smile, and said, “Can you come over for dinner tonight? I have more salmon, way too much for just me, and I could use some help eating it. So since you said it was your favorite, I thought perhaps you’d like to give me a hand?”

He hesitated, looking blankly down at her, and she clapped her hand to her cheek and exclaimed, “Oh! Or maybe you didn’t care for my cooking…. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed….” She looked anxiously up at him through her long eyelashes.

“Oh, uhh, no. It was… it was fine. _Good_. I meant it was good,” he mumbled, caught off guard by the suddenness of the invitation and by the captivating image of glimmering sea green filtered through the darker forest of her lashes.

“Then you’ll come?” she asked eagerly, her face brightening. “After all, you need to eat _some_ time, so why not let _me_ cook something for you? We can make it an early dinner if you need to get to bed early or something. I’m flexible.”

“I… I suppose I can make it,” was his ungracious reply.

“Great! Can you be there around 19:00? Or would you prefer an earlier dinner?”

“No, that’s fine, I guess,” he said.

“Then I’ll see you later! See you around, Arthur!” she called, as she darted out the door.

Arthur sighed as he watched her go, then turned to Barrett with a slightly envious look. “You lucky dog,” he commented with a smile.

“Huh?” Barrett said, startled.

“Dinner with Avani—and even cooked by her, too. There’s not a bachelor in town that wouldn’t give his right arm to be in your place. And some that would give even more.” Arthur sighed again, smiling despite his chagrin and shaking his head ruefully before returning to the business at hand.

* * *

 

Avani spent the rest of the day arranging things to her satisfaction. She set out a dress that she deemed perfect for the occasion: made of thin, white, gauzy material and trimmed with delicately knitted lace, it somehow contrived to be both innocent and provocative at the same time. She had a ‘backup’ outfit selected, too, in case the first one didn’t do the trick—a short, full, violet skirt and a semi-sheer blouse in just the shade of pale lilac to highlight the vivid green of her eyes.

She completed as much of the food preparation in advance as she could, and set a bottle each of sparkling wine and white wine in the refrigerator to chill. She had seasoned some salmon steaks to grill, washed a bowl of fresh greens and pared some oranges for a salad, and prepared the ingredients for a creamy risotto. She had piled fresh, ripe, tiny strawberries she’d picked just that morning—probably the last crop before the winter snows began—into a large blue bowl, and she’d skimmed the cream from some fresh milk to go with them.

Once the meal preparations were complete, she cleaned her house and made her bed, having washed her bed linens first thing that morning and hung them out to dry in the warm late-autumn sun so that they’d be fresh and crisp and smell of sunshine and grass and fresh air. She placed a large vase of colorful autumn leaves on the table before the crackling fire and a smaller vase of flowers from her garden on the table by her bed.

Shortly before Barrett was due to arrive, she bathed her face and brushed out her long, pale green hair until it shone like silk, leaving it hanging loose down her back. Then she dressed in her simple white frock and dabbed the tiniest drop of scent into her cleavage—a custom blend that Arthur had acquired for her from one of his tradesmen, a heady fragrance of sweet white flowers with just a hint of spice to balance it. Finally, not wanting to seem _too_ carefully dressed, she pulled an apron on over her dress and loosely bound a floral kerchief over her head to keep her hair out of her face while she cooked. Satisfied, she set about making the dressing for the salad while she waited.

* * *

 

Barrett almost skipped out at the last minute. It wasn’t that he felt awkward about their talk yesterday—he’d never been shy and didn’t care about things like that. It was more because he just wanted to be left alone, now more than ever. But then he remembered her worried look and how she had cheered up when he assured her that her cooking was fine and that he’d be there. So with a sigh, he pulled his jacket on and headed over to the castle, going to the back door as they’d done the day before. It was open, so he walked in and called her name.

She popped out of the kitchen, looking all fresh and green and white and dainty like a cluster of tiny white lilies in full bloom. He blinked in surprise—he hadn’t seen her looking like that before. He’d only ever seen her in her work clothes or her armor, nothing so _feminine_. She wore a large white apron wrapped over her white dress, and carried a pair of potholders in her hands.

“Oh, hi, Barrett! I’m so glad you could make it! Let me just take care of a thing or two, and I’ll be out in a minute. Make yourself at home!” And she whisked back into the kitchen. He was aware of a variety of mouth-watering smells—salmon, something creamy, a hint of piquancy, and something buttery and savory. He hung his coat on a hook by the door, then sat in the same chair he’d occupied yesterday.

Soon she came out, carrying a bottle of bubbly and two glasses in one hand, and a plate of some little bites of something or other. She set everything down on the table, saying apologetically, “I’m sorry I don’t have a proper dining table right now. Mostly when I eat at home, I either eat at the kitchen table or out here. Someday when I have the time, I want to renovate one of the spare rooms so that I can have a proper dining room. But for now….”

“It’s fine,” Barrett said, eying the bottle doubtfully. He hoped she didn’t expect him to open it, because he’d never done so before and didn’t have a clue how. But luckily she seemed to know what she was doing, and soon she was filling two glasses with the pale gold effervescent wine.

She handed one to him, and with a smile, she raised her glass and said, “To good food and good friends!”

“Uh, cheers,” he replied, carefully tapping his glass against hers before taking a cautious sip. He’d never had sparkling wine before—the bubbles tickled his throat and nearly made him choke on that first sip, but the next one went down more smoothly. It was fruity but not at all sweet, and he found that the flavor complemented the savory little pastries that she’d just pulled out of the oven. They chatted about his classes and his students, and he relaxed enough after a little while to tell some amusing anecdotes about his experiences as a teacher.

As soon as the sparkling wine was gone, Avani gathered up the dishes and excused herself for a moment. She returned a few minutes later, carrying a tray. She set two plates of food—salmon and risotto and some fresh, sliced cucumbers—and two bowls of salad on the table. She returned to the kitchen and reappeared carrying a bottle of pale straw-colored wine and a pair of wine glasses.

She slipped off her apron and the kerchief on her head, hanging them on a hook just inside the kitchen, and his eyes opened wide in surprise as he looked at her in her soft, clingy dress—he’d never noticed what an exquisite figure she had before. But then, he’d never really had the opportunity, either. As she opened the wine and poured it, he loosened his collar slightly, suddenly feeling a little too warm.

She handed him a glass and inviting him to eat with a smile. He was surprised by the quality of her cooking—the quick meal she’d prepared yesterday had certainly been good—excellent, even—but nothing like this. This was gourmet cooking.

After dinner, she again cleared the dishes away, and a few minutes later Barrett smelled the tantalizing scent of fresh coffee. Soon she returned, carrying a tray with a pot of coffee, some sugar and cream, a big bowl of luscious red berries, and a smaller bowl of freshly whipped cream. She poured the coffee, then exclaimed in alarm as she glanced down at her dress. “Drat, my dress is all wet! I must have splashed it when I was filling the kettle or something. Go on ahead and start—I need to go change.”

She walked over to her wardrobe and opened it, looking inside for a minute before selecting some articles of clothing. “You’ll have to excuse me—I don’t have a separate dressing room yet, either,” she said as she pulled the drapes closed over the windows.

Barrett choked on his sip of coffee, then started to stand up. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” Avani exclaimed, holding her hand up. “I’m not bashful. That is, unless it bothers you? I’ve found _some_ people do get upset by nudity. Though of course it’s not like I’ll be _completely_ naked.” Barrett sat back down, looking somewhat uneasy as he tried to keep his eyes from wandering her direction.

She reached back to undo the zipper of her dress, but twist and turn though she might, she couldn’t manage to unzip. After struggling for a few minutes, she sighed and turned towards her guest. “I’m very sorry to trouble you, Barrett, but could you help me? Clorica zipped me up, and I just can’t seem to reach the zipper myself.”

He stared for a moment, then shrugged and went to help. The zipper kept catching in the wispy fabric, so it took a few tries before he got it unzipped all the way. The dress slipped off her shoulders and to the floor, leaving her in her lingerie. She wore a silky lilac thong that displayed her smooth, firm buttocks to perfection. Her hips were full, her waist long and slender.

She stooped to pick up her soiled dress, then turned around to thank him with a smile. She wore a matching lilac bra that accentuated her full breasts, and he felt much, much too hot as he found his gaze sliding down her nearly-bare figure, from her shining eyes down her lissome body to her delicate feet and returning to meet her eyes momentarily before he flushed and looked quickly away, swallowing hard. She was too young, he thought. He had to be ten years her senior, if not more. And besides, she, too, belonged to another, he reminded himself, inwardly surprised at the bitterness contained within that thought. He looked back at her, saying, “You… you look a lot like Dorothy, except for your eyes. I’d never noticed before.” He said it tonelessly—a simple observation.

He turned away to return to his seat, but Avani reached a hand out to him, holding him fast by his arm. “Wait,” she said, softly. “I… I can be Dorothy for you, for tonight. Or at least, I can stand in for her.” He looked at her, partly shocked and partly intrigued. She moved in a little more closely to him, putting his arms around her waist and tilting her face up to him just a little. Her mouth looked so… soft, so inviting, he couldn’t help leaning down and kissing it.

The sensation of heat became an electric shock as he covered her mouth with his own, awakening a primal need that had been too long denied. He pulled back, suddenly alarmed by what he was doing. “Wait… no… you-you’re too young. I… I can’t…” he stuttered incoherently.

Avani looked up at him, her eyes full of neither love nor pity—only a reassuring tranquility. “I assure you, I’m not and you can.” She reached up and put her arms around his neck, pulling him back down to her.

Still he resisted, saying, “But you and Leon… aren’t you…?”

“Yes,” she replied calmly. “Don’t worry, he knows.”

His head swam from heat and wine and desire and confusion. “He… he knows?” he echoed dully.

“That you’re here. That I want to be with you tonight.”

He was keenly aware of her skin pressed against him, and his hands moved of their own accord, running down her back and over her smooth buttocks. “And… he doesn’t object?” he mumbled, still dazed.

“I don’t know if I’d go _that_ far. But we agreed from the start that neither of us would attempt to tie the other one down, so we’re free to pursue other… interests, as long as we’re honest about it.”

He looked at her curiously—he’d never come across such an unusual woman, or such an unusual couple. “Why…?” he started to ask, but she lay a finger over his lips, whispering, “Shhhh. Enough talking for now—it’ll keep until later.” And with that she pulled him to her and began to kiss him, and he felt the last shreds of his self-control and carefully crafted iron will floating away from him on a sea of green.

* * *

 Leon lay on his stomach on his bed at the inn, his tail and ears limp and dejected, one arm dangling over the side, his face buried in his pillow. He tried not to think about Avani—the light of his days and his nights—doing all those incredible, delightful things she did to him… only doing them to Barrett instead. His ears drooped a degree or two lower, and he reached for the clock by his bed—the clock she’d bought for him. It was just past midnight, yet sleep was far from him. He hated clocks, hated the way their merciless ticking and tocking marked the inexorable march of time.

Tonight he was especially resentful, though. He tried not to listen for Barrett’s return, he really did. But each time he looked at the clock, he was painfully aware that that his fellow lodger was _still_ not back in his own bed, and therefore was very likely in Avani’s instead. He replaced the clock carefully—he might not like clocks, but this one was special—a gift, given to him by her the day after they’d consummated their relationship. He groaned and buried his face back into his pillow. The cold, aching pit of jealousy that filled his core gnawed at him from the inside out as it grew still larger, and for the thousandth time that night he cursed himself for ever making that careless promise that bound him still.

* * *

 Barrett startled awake, confused by his surroundings in the dark, unfamiliar room. He sat up, and felt a warm body stir against him. Still not fully awake, he jumped as a slender arm stretched across him, pulling him back down. He resisted, bewildered. Then more movement, and suddenly a lamp was lit. In the amber lamplight, he saw he was in a large, strange bed, and then he saw thick waves of pale green hair cascading over the pillow next to him, slightly damp where it clung to the glistening, naked figure lying at his side.

A split second later it dawned on him that he, too, was naked and slick with sweat, and then the memories came flooding back. Of Avani, fervently kissing him, pressing her nearly bare form against him as she ran sensitive fingers over his neck and chest, locking her doors, leading him to her bed. Of himself, hastily removing his clothing and her lingerie, kissing her lips and neck, caressing her breasts with his mouth and hands, exploring the soft green hair between her silky thighs as the sense of urgency in the pit of his stomach grew with his erection. Of the two of them, entwined, clinging to each other, moving to an internal rhythm that culminated in a release the likes of which he’d never known. He felt as though the hot flood that had exploded from him into her as they cried out in unison had carried with it years of heartache and pain. And then he’d slept in her arms—not a long sleep, evidently, but more refreshing than any he could remember in a very long time.

She rolled over, looking up at him with large, liquid eyes as her lips curved into a breathtaking smile. She reached up and traced circles on his chest, brushing against the light hair and making him shiver.

“Why?” he asked, looking down into her eyes.

“Because,” she replied simply, “it was what you needed.”

“Then we’re… what exactly _are_ we now?” he asked, frowning a little as he thought.

“The same thing we were yesterday: good friends who care about each other and help each other in times of need,” she said gently. He opened his mouth to ask more questions, but she pulled him down to her and kissed him, putting an end to conversation as he felt himself eagerly responding to her touch.

* * *

 Barrett mounted the stairs to his room at the inn as quietly as he could, carrying his boots. He wasn’t sure what time it was exactly, but he knew it was very late. Despite the exhaustion that swept over him in waves, he felt lighter in spirit than he had in years. He closed his door behind him and collapsed on his bed, not even bothering to undress. A quick look at the small alarm clock on his bedside table showed that it was nearly 4:00. He’d thought he heard sounds coming from Leon’s room as he passed his door, but he wasn’t certain—surely he’d been asleep for hours by now anyway. He was pretty sure the entire town was sleeping except for himself. A minute later and he, too, slept, snoring softly in a deep, healing slumber.

* * *

 

He awoke late the next morning, and as he remembered the events of the night before, he stretched luxuriously, grinning broadly to himself. He went down to the baths and found himself face to face with Leon in the lobby, apparently just as he returned from a late breakfast, his ears and tail uncharacteristically limp. They both tensed slightly as their eyes met, an unspoken recognition of their shared intimate knowledge passing between them.

Then just at that moment, the door to the ladies’ baths opened and Avani walked out. She spotted the two men, and exclaiming “Leeeooo!” in her exuberant way, she darted up to him and threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over in her enthusiasm. His ears perked up and his tail wagged joyfully—his entire demeanor changing from wary and downcast to ebullient in the space of a single heartbeat. She gave him a kiss that lingered just _slightly_ beyond what the elders of the town would consider tolerable for public display, then released him, grabbing hold of his hand instead.

“Hi, Barrett. I hope you slept well?” she asked, her eyes sparkling as she turned to him.

“Yes, _very_ well. Thank you,” he replied, with a wide smile.

Leon’s ear twitched a few times, and he thought to himself somewhat piteously that _he_ hadn’t—he hadn’t slept at all well. Even after Barrett’s early morning return, he found he couldn’t rest. He’d tossed until the sky began to lighten, then finally fell into a fitful, brief slumber, filled with nightmares from his past. He had awakened later than usual looking like something the cat—or his foxes—had dragged in, and only after breakfast and quite a lot of coffee had he started to look and feel human again. And now— _now_ he was confronted with this man’s scent so intimately mingled with that of his lover. It had been difficult enough to bear with Dylas, who at least had held a prior claim to her affection, but it was almost intolerable with Barrett. He gripped Avani’s hand more tightly, waiting tersely for her to finish her conversation.

Meanwhile, Avani had moved closer to Barrett and rested her other hand on his arm. “Barrett,” she said in a low, soft voice, “I did what I did last night because you are my friend, and I care about you. I couldn’t bear to see you in so much pain—not from Yue leaving you, but from _Dorothy_ leaving you. So I did the only thing that I could think of that might do you some good. Not out of pity, but because you’re dear to me and I want you to be happy. I wanted to help you let go of your past so that you could reach out and grab hold of your future.”

“I think you might actually have succeeded,” he replied slowly. “I feel… I feel like a new man. I don’t understand how you could have managed to effect such a change in just one night, but it appears that you did.”

She smiled her radiant smile for him, and said, “Then go on, Barrett. Reach out to your future. Find your happiness.” And with that, she turned and left, pulling Leon along behind her as she disappeared through the doors.

Barrett watched her leave, and as he watched her, he found that in all the places within him where Dorothy’s face used to stare out at him, he now saw only Avani’s face smiling up at him, peering with sparkling sea green eyes from under their thick fringes of lashes. His chest constricted for a moment as the truth hit him—he no longer felt trapped in a fruitless infatuation with Dorothy, but he knew that he had instead fallen in love with Avani. And seeing her with Leon, he knew in his heart that this love, too, would be unrequited. But… somehow, he didn’t seem to mind it so much this time.

She had given freely of herself, and somehow that gift alone had released him from the old ties that had bound him without entangling him anew. Now his heart was free. He heard the echo of her parting words to him in his mind: “Find your happiness.”

He had never imagined that three little words could change his life so much.


	2. The Cry of the Peacock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A backstory for Avani, Sundara, and Bhima. I strongly suggest you read at least through chapter 64 of The Winds of the Past before reading this, as some things won't make sense otherwise, plus it contains some spoilers. It is not a happy story, but I think it's an interesting one. I think you will find that within the context of this series, it helps to round out and add dimension to some of the characters.
> 
> This was a rather difficult story to write due to its intensity, so I would very much like to hear from you what you think of it—if you found it compelling, if you feel as though you know the characters better, that sort of thing. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Rated M (borderline E) for adult themes, rape/non-con, abuse, and some violence, though little of it is actually explicit.

Pausing to untangle another tendril of blue skyflower vine from his long forest green hair, the man looked quickly around for any sign of her passage. It was easy to overlook someone in the dense undergrowth of the lush forest. Then, a little ways ahead of him, he caught a glimpse of fluttering white—the hem of her skirt as she pushed her way through a curtain of vines, climbing higher up the mountain in her heedless flight.

He didn’t call after her this time. He’d tried that earlier, and she hadn’t heard or heeded his voice—he wasn’t sure which. But he’d seen the look on her face as she fled the village, and so he had followed her, his heart beating fast in his concern. He tore free of the vine’s grasp and pushed on, trying to keep her in sight, though before long, he had lost her again. But by then he knew where she was going, having strolled along this same path many times before with her.

He emerged from the depths of the forest, blinking in the dazzling morning sunlight. As he both expected and feared, she was there ahead of him, standing near to the edge of the rocky precipice, looking down into the shallow lake in the valley far below. He froze in horror as he watched her haltingly take a step closer, and another, then he finally recovered the use of his limbs and darted forward, grasping her wrist and jerking her back just as she was about to step out into air.

Pulling her close to him as he felt the pounding of her heart against him and breathed deeply of her scent, so nearly lost to him forever, he thanked Ventu that he’d reached her in time. She began to tremble, and looking down, he saw her eyes filled with tears and anguish. Holding her in his arms, he said gently, “Avani, my love… is it really _that_ bad? Is it so unbearable to be married to him that you can’t face another day?”

She stiffened, and there was a lengthy pause before she whispered, “I… I just can’t bear the thought of going on like this, year after year, until he dies—or I do.”

He lifted her chin to better look into her eyes, and seeing how much suffering they held, his own eyes dimmed, her anguish becoming his own. He thought for a moment, wondering how best to comfort the woman he loved. Then he leaned down and kissed her, slowly and tenderly.

Avani blinked in surprise, and although she seemed to recoil slightly at first, perhaps from habit, she quickly returned his kiss. He pulled away after a moment and looked at her with adoration as he wiped the tears from her cheeks. “At least there is _some_ small good in all this—you’re no longer bound by their demands for chastity.” Her eyes opened wide as the implication of his words sunk in, then he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her again as she tentatively reached her arms around his neck, and he carried her away to a more secluded place, where their privacy would be all but assured.

As the sun neared its daily apex, it shone down on two figures lying on the soft spring grass in a secret, flower-filled glade, unclothed and still slightly entwined. The woman slept, her head on the man’s chest, her pale green hair cascading over her body and across his. The man lay with his arms around her, lost in thought. Although he’d approached her with nothing but tenderness, and love, and gentleness, she had frequently needed to stop, her eyes terrified as she struggled to regain control before she could go any further. He wondered what could possibly have happened in the two nights since her marriage that would already have taught her to respond with such fear.

Looking down at her as she dozed, he drank in every detail—her silky hair, her soft curves and long, lightly muscled limbs, the still-fresh wedding paint, bronze against her pale golden skin. He wished that she had been permitted to marry _him_ , but as that could not be, he was grateful that he at least was finally able to take her as his lover—something he had dreamt of for a long time now. Then, suddenly noticing fresh marks hidden amongst the elaborate designs on her skin, his eyes darkened with anger and his arms tightened around her protectively.

* * *

 

They met frequently after that—if not daily, then at least as often as they could manage some concurrent time away from their duties. For days, her response to his gentle caresses remained the same—though _she_ was willing, her _body_ was fearful. After several trysts, though, she slowly began to lower her defenses, like a timid flower slowly unfurling its petals in the warmth of the sun even while fearing the evening’s chill.

Avani didn’t tell Sundara what lay behind her terror of intimacy. She couldn’t stand to have him know of it; the very thought of the abuse she was subjected to each night filled her with such dread and shame that it was almost more than she could bear. But after that time when he pulled her back from the edge of oblivion, she ceased to consider death as a means of escape. Instead, she learned to turn to him for comfort and solace. His love may not have entirely erased the memory of her husband’s violence, but it did at least ease her suffering.

One day early in fall, after the monsoons had passed, she met him in the usual place in the forest, and she was shaking, her eyes large and dark. “What is it? What troubles you?” he asked her, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close to him, enfolding her in his gentle embrace.

“It… it’s Bhima. He’s demanding that I stay away from you, that I stop seeing you altogether,” she said in a strangled voice.

Sundara drew back in dismay. “He… he _what_? He has no right to make that demand! That’s one of the basic tenets of our tribe, that we are all free to seek love and comfort with _whomever_ we please! Why would he even _ask_ that of you?”

Avani turned away, looking down at the ground. “He… he’s angry that I refuse to give him children. By his reckoning, I should be pregnant by now, and he’s furious that I’m not. He wants sons—wants them more than _anything_.” Then she turned back to her lover, her eyes filled with desperation and loathing. “But I won’t do it! I don’t care what he does, what he says, how badly he hurts me—I _will not_ bear children to that… that _monster_!”

Taken aback by the intensity of her response, he stared at her for a moment. Then he again took her in his arms and held her until at last she calmed. Lifting her chin and kissing her forehead he smiled down at her. “I have some news for you.”

Brushing the tears from her eyes, she looked up at him curiously. “You do? What is it?”

“I’ve bought Kavi’s house.”

“Kavi’s?” she said in surprise. “That’s wonderful, Sundara! I didn’t even know it was for sale.”

“Yes. He only had daughters, you know, and they all have homes of their own. His widow didn’t care to live there all alone, so she sold it to me, all of it—the house, the furnishings, and the land—and moved in with her eldest daughter and her family. There isn’t _much_ land with it, but plenty for my needs. I’m not an Avanan, after all. Do you want to see it?”

She nodded her head, and he squeezed her tightly. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. I have a surprise to show you, too.”

He led her to his new home and stood back, watching her as she gazed up at it with shining eyes. It was a good house, well-built, and had needed nothing more than a fresh coat of paint and a few repairs to the roof.

“It’s lovely!” she sighed. The peacock blue building was set into a thick growth of jasmine, jungle flame, gardenia, and pomegranate shrubs, and the stone steps leading up the short but steep hillside were edged with ginger and hibiscus plants. The front door was painted to resemble a peacock’s tail feather, with the round window as the eye, and the roof was made of coppery red clay tiles. “When did you find the time to paint it so beautifully?” she asked, turning to him in wonder.

“I didn’t,” he replied, laughing. “I traded for it—Lochan and his sons painted my house, and in exchange, I’m to write and perform a new composition for his eldest son’s wedding next season. I’m pleased with their work, and he’s pleased with his recompense. Now follow me—I’ve something more to show you.”

She followed him as he went up the steps, turned to the right, and went around to the side of the house. He stopped at a small yard, then turned and smiled as she stood next to him and gazed all around, wondering what she was supposed to be looking at. He pointed up at the limbs of one of the trees, and her eyes followed his gesture.

Like jewels hung from a silken cord, brilliant feathers drooped elegantly from the lower limbs. She immediately recognized Nilam, his beautiful blue peacock, and on the branch next to Nilam, his rather plain spouse, Rani. But on another limb nearby were two new peafowl. She stepped forward to get a better look, then glanced back at Sundara, who was smiling broadly at her. “What…?”

“Take a closer look—they’re different. See? They’re green instead of blue, and the female is just as colorful as the male, though she lacks his long plumage. Aren’t they beautiful? I’ve never seen ones like them around here. I don’t know where they came from or how they got here, but when I found them, they were being hunted by one of those pythons you find now and then hidden among the vines of the forest. The blue peafowl know to stay away from them, but these two didn’t. So wherever they came from, they must not need to worry about constrictors.”

“What happened?” she asked eagerly, looking again at the beautiful birds.

“I killed the snake with my hunting knife and fed some of the flesh to them. After that, it was simple to catch one, and the other followed. They seem much more closely attached to each other than blue peafowl get. I brought them back here and fed them again, and they stayed. I just found them yesterday—the day I moved in. I call the cock Mani and the hen Ratma—both names mean ‘jewel’, which I think fits them.”

She smiled affectionately at him, then looking back up at the beautiful birds. “Do you remember that white peachick I rescued when we were little? I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find a home for him, and I was so happy when you said you’d take him.”

He laughed, startling Mani into flapping his wings and crying in alarm. “Yes, of course I remember Dhaval—it hasn’t been _that_ long. It was only a couple years ago that he died, soon after… after I had that talk with your father, asking him to allow us to marry. That little peachick was the start of it all, you know—my fascination with peacocks. My poor mother—they drove her crazy, she said, with all their noise. That was part of why I decided to move out of the village proper, so that my birds wouldn’t cause as much disturbance to others.”

“ _Part_ of why? What _else_ made you decide to move out of your father’s house?” she asked, looking curious.

He leaned over and kissed her, then, and murmured in his melodious voice, “A fervent desire for privacy.” Then he lifted her up and carried her through the jewel-toned door into his home.

Neither of them noticed a tall figure half-hidden in the shadows of the trees lining the path below.

* * *

 

Standing in the kitchen slicing vegetables to make a curry, Avani heard the front door slam forcibly and her heart sank. She imagined that even in the best of times, Bhima would be only just barely tolerable, but she couldn’t confirm that as they hadn’t had any of those yet. His moods, at least as directed towards her, seemed to be either bad, _really_ bad, or unspeakable. If he was slamming the door with such force, it would most likely be the lattermost tonight. She gave a shudder and forced herself to set the knife down as she heard heavy footsteps rapidly approaching.

Before she could so much as turn, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him. Gritting his teeth, he glowered into her startled face. “ _I told you to stay away from Sundara_!”

She turned white at that, at a loss as to how he had so quickly discovered her disobedience, but she lifted her chin defiantly despite the quaking she felt inside. “So what if you did? You have no right to tell me who I can and can’t see! You know our customs as well as I do! If you don’t like it, go find a lover yourself—or two, or three, or a _thousand_ for all I care!”

Narrowing his brilliant emerald green eyes, he grabbed her by her arm and dragged her, struggling, out of the kitchen and up the stairs to their bedroom. Flinging her back against the far wall, he closed the door firmly behind him, glaring at her.

“I will _not_ risk you bearing a child to your effeminate lover instead of to me. Your children will be _mine_ , and mine _alone_. Is that clear?”

The fear in her eyes turned to desperation, which in turn gave way to recklessness, knowing what was coming. Clenching her fists to still her trembling, she faced him, looking him in the eyes. “Then you have nothing to fear,” she retorted. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times. I will _never_ bear your children! And Sundara is _not_ effeminate—he’s a thousand times the man _you_ are!”

A low growl escaped him, and he lunged at her, grabbing her by her blouse and throwing her onto the bed. He tore her clothes from her, then standing over her, he snarled, “We’ll just _see_ about that,” as he unbuckled his trousers.

* * *

 

He was gone. She didn’t know—or care—where he went, nor when he returned, as long as it wasn’t _soon_. His absence brought her nothing but relief. Pulling herself up, wincing in pain, she slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Ignoring the crimson stains on the sheet behind her, she stumbled, still naked, down the stairs to the bathing room and proceeded to wash every last trace of him from her skin and hair, soaking and scrubbing until she was as raw and sore on the outside as she was on the inside.

When she was done, she dressed and went out the back door. First she completed a lengthy series of stretches and acrobatics, followed by her training exercises, one discipline after another: hand-to-hand combat, daggers, sword, and finally spear. She was no match for her husband, she knew—he was easily the tallest and strongest man in the tribe, and he had at least twelve more years of experience than she did. But maybe, just maybe, if she kept on training….

It was well past midnight when he finally returned, and she was already in bed. She made sure to leave him the soiled side of the bed, refusing to lie where her blood mingled with his seed. It was a small, perhaps even spiteful, gesture, yet one she always made, leaving the damnable stains there until the next morning. She feigned sleep as he strode in and stripped off his clothing before climbing into bed next to her, hoping that he’d leave her alone. She always wished that he’d return immersed in some other woman’s scent—knowing that there were many in the tribe who would gladly give him the favors that he plundered from her by force. If he sated himself elsewhere, maybe he’d leave her alone now and then. But he never did. He apparently had no interest in the softer, gentler emotions—love, for instance. Even sex seemed to be merely a means to an end for him—reproduction and intimidation, primarily—and not something he desired for its own sake.

Then he rolled over and reached for her, and she shuddered at his touch.

* * *

 

“Have you heard any rumors of leopards in the area?” Sundara asked one winter afternoon as they walked hand-in-hand through the forest. He stopped and held a dense curtain of vines aside for her, letting them fall back into place as he followed behind.

She looked at him in surprise. “No, nothing. Why? Have _you_?”

He frowned in thought, hesitating before answering her question as they continued on their path. “No…” he finally said, slowly, “not rumors exactly. But the peacocks have been crying out in the middle of the night quite often lately. So far I haven’t seen any signs of predators around, but….”

“Hmmm. But what else would disturb them so much—that’s what you’re wondering?”

He nodded, then shrugged. “Well, I would think that if a leopard had moved in so close to the village, we’d know about it by now—someone would have seen it or heard some sign of it, or would have had some livestock go missing. Perhaps they’re reacting to something else, possibly mongooses. At any rate, at least I’m not right in the middle of the village now—or else I’m sure I’d hear about the commotion each morning from annoyed neighbors.”

“No doubt,” she replied with a smile, giving his hand a squeeze.

The walked along in silence for a little while, then he pulled her slightly closer. “So… how are things going with Bhima? Is… is it getting any better?”

She stiffened and came to a stop, looking straight ahead. He waited, watching her in concern. He knew that things had been hard for her, and he suspected that really they were far worse than she let on even to him. But surely by now—they’d been married over half a year, wouldn’t that be long enough to come to some arrangement?

Finally she turned and looked towards the east, and he suddenly remembered that morning when she’d nearly killed herself. Apparently she had been thinking of that day, too, for when she spoke, she said, “Some days I wish you hadn’t reached me in time—that you’d allowed me that escape.” Then she turned and looked at him, tears in her eyes, and gave him a half-hearted smile. “Don’t worry, Sundara. I don’t really blame you—even if maybe I can’t exactly quite thank you, either. I’m so glad—more glad than you can possibly know—that I have you in my life. You’re all that keeps me going sometimes. But even if I’m no longer desperate to die, I’m far from happy with the hand that I’ve been dealt.” She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against his chest.

He was surprised by her words—surprised, and dismayed. Not for the first time did he wish that he’d been trained as a warrior, not as a musician. He’d gladly trade all the music in the world for the ability to protect his beloved. And not for the first time did he resent that she should _need_ to be protected from her own husband.

He smoothed her silky celadon hair, then said, “Let’s turn back. I’ll make you some tea, and you can lie down and rest while I play for you—if you’d like that?”

She nodded, smiling gratefully despite her downcast appearance, and they turned back down the path towards his house, still holding hands. They returned in silence, lost in their private thoughts, and each comfortable enough with the other’s company to have no need of words.

Sundara’s house was an older one, and the previous occupant had been a senior pravada—Sundara’s teacher, in fact. His house was designed for hospitality and for music, his sitting room in particular. Instead of chairs or couches or benches, as most homes had, there were alcoves set into the walls of the sitting room, and raised platforms inside the alcoves, heavily strewn with cushions, served as comfortable seating that was particularly ideal for music or storytelling. A very thick, colorful carpet covered much of the tile floor, and a low table surrounded by more cushions was centered on the carpet.

He made a pot of tea and brought it out, then pushed the table to one side. He removed his sur-mandal from a shelf and sat next to the table, then arranged several of the cushions on the floor next to him. He smiled at Avani and patted the cushions, and she sat down next to him, accepting the cup of tea he offered her. As she sipped the fragrant tea, he strummed the strings of his instrument, tuned it, and strummed them again before beginning to play a hauntingly beautiful melody.

Suddenly, without any warning, Avani burst into tears, bending over her lap as she buried her face in her hands and wept passionately. Alarmed, Sundara dropped his instrument and put his arms around her, rubbing her back and murmuring whatever soothing words came to mind.

“It should have been _you_ ,” she gasped between sobs. “I should have run away with you. Or even without you, if I had to—even if I’d been killed by a tiger or a wild dog, even _that_ would have been better… but more than anything, it should have been _you_ I married, not… not _him_.”

He gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly as if to ward off the desolation that overwhelmed her. Rising to his feet as she clung to him, he carried her to his bedroom, setting her gently on the soft bed. Kissing her fingers, her palms, the insides of her elbows, and on until he reached her lips, salty with the taste of tears, he reassured her over and over that things would get better—he didn’t know when or how, but he knew that they would. They _must_ , because she deserved no less. Then he took her face in his hands and looked deep into her eyes for a long moment before he again spoke.

“Avani, my beloved, the light of my days, the song of my soul… I, too, wish you had been permitted to marry me instead. But nothing can keep us apart—marriage for us is little more than a contract to legitimize one’s descendents and provide heirs. Love needs no contract. Please, my love, don’t think again of taking your life or of losing it. Whatever life brings, meet it bravely and with the strength I know you possess. And remember, courage doesn’t mean only facing death without fear of dying. Sometimes, dearest, it takes more courage to live than to die.”

She opened her eyes wide at his words, then closed them again with a sigh as he resumed his kisses, slowly peeling away the layers of her clothing with gentle, loving caresses.

A little time later, they were both so caught up in their rapturous enjoyment of each other that neither of them heard the peacocks’ screams.

* * *

 

She fell asleep in his arms afterwards, as she often did, waking only when daylight began to give way to dusk. Reluctant to return to her unhappy home, she burrowed under the covers, nestling against him as he drowsily encircled her with his arms. Waking fully a few minutes later, he kissed her hair, saying, “Avani, love, it’s time to get up.”

Cringing, she replied, “I know… but, oh, Sundara, I don’t want to. I’d just stay here with you, if I wasn’t afraid of what he might do if I didn’t come home at all.”

He gave her a squeeze, saying, “I’m not afraid of what he might do to _me_ —but your life is hard enough as it is without antagonizing him further. Come on, I’ll walk you to your gate.”

With a sigh, she rose and stretched, then reached for her clothing. She took her time dressing, dreading the impending night. But at last she was dressed, and slipping into her shoes, she looked at her lover as he stood waiting patiently for her. He opened the door for her, and she stepped out onto the front porch—and screamed.

Quickly pushing past her, Sundara turned white as he saw two beautiful, jewel-like green birds lying on the floor of the porch, their necks snapped.

“What… how….” he gasped in shock, leaning against the doorway for support as Avani buried her face against his chest, sobbing.

In response, she lifted her face, and with a strange glitter in her eyes, she said, “Bhima. _He_ did this, I _know_ he did. He’s trying to warn us, or to scare us.” Then she turned and bolted down the steps and towards her house.

Racing down the hill to the fields that surrounded her husband’s house, she tore up the stairs and burst through the front door. “Bhima!” she screamed as she darted from room to room in search of him. She found him in his study, poring over charts and maps. He looked up and scowled at her as she flung the door open and faced him, shaking with rage.

“Yes, my wife? What troubles you _so late_ this night?” he said serenely, though cruelty curved the corners of his mouth and shone out from his vivid eyes.

Reaching his worktable in only two long strides, she planted the palms of her hands on the surface and leaned in towards him, still quivering. “I _know_ you did it, Bhima— _you_ killed Sundara’s birds. And I’m telling you, it won’t work. You’re a monstrous, despicable _beast_ , not fit to live among decent people, and I _will not_ be responsible for inflicting your vile spawn on this world. If you want your precious sons, you’ll have to find someone else to give them to you, because _I_ would sooner die.”

He leaned back in his chair and placed his elbows on his desk, pressing his fingertips together. Looking at her with narrowed eyes, he said, “I see. It would appear that you are becoming somewhat… _inured_ to my censure.” Staring intently into her eyes, like a wolf preparing for a fight, he slowly rose. “Perhaps,” he said, his deep bass voice heavy with menace, “it’s time to broaden your horizons.”

Grabbing her by her arm, he dragged her out the back door, stopping to pull his sword and hers from the storage rack. Out on the field behind their house, he released her and tossed her weapon to her. She looked at him, baffled and uncertain, as he turned to face her. “Tell me, _Dragon Knight_ , do you think you can best me? Then I will offer you this bargain: if you can beat me in armed combat, I will grant you an annulment, and you will be free to marry whomever you will. If you _lose_ … you will remain mine to use as I please.”

She blinked up at him, stunned by and suspicious of his offer. “Why, Bhima? Why _me_? You know that I despise you—that I’ve _always_ despised you. And you know there are many women in the tribe who would happily take my place. So why do you insist on _me_?”

He scowled impatiently. “You persist in asking for my motives. Do you really not know? Has no one ever told you?”

“Told me what?” she asked, dumbfounded, watching him warily.

“Of the prophecy, of course.”

“Wh-what prophecy?”

He grunted, annoyed by her questions. “Enough delay! It will keep. Now, if you think you can defeat me, come at me, woman!”

He stood waiting, too arrogant even to hold his sword at the ready as he glared at her. She crouched, her heart racing as she considered what she stood to gain—or lose—by this outcome. The twilight shadows deepened into night around her, lit only by the patches of light cast by the windows of their house and by the gibbous moon.

She sprang into the air, swinging her sword around to slash across his right arm. Faster than she could blink, he brought his sword up and across his torso, deflecting her blow. She fell back, landing once again in a crouch, then sprang into a back flip as he quickly followed up with a blow of his own. Landing on one foot, she twirled around to face him, sliding to one side to dodge his blade, while swiping at his legs with her own. Again, he swung his blade around to block her weapon. In the pale light, he smiled slowly, like a cat that has caught an unexpectedly lively mouse.

He was her superior in strength, skill, and experience, although she was lighter on her feet and quicker—and more desperate. He understood that desperation could be her greatest strength—or her undoing. And so he toyed with her, letting her wear herself out with her acrobatics. To his surprise, he found himself almost enjoying the competition. He didn’t _love_ her, of course—he was not motivated by any personal jealousy. He didn’t even find her all that attractive, in honesty. She was too scrawny, too pale for his liking. His taste ran more towards women like that Kamini, Rohit’s wife, with her sensuous curves, amber skin, ruby lips, and dark hair and eyes. He knew she’d been eying him for years, though he’d never acknowledged her flirtations. Perhaps once he had realized his ambitions, then—

The icy sting of a blade slicing through his upper arm startled him out of his reverie. Emboldened by her unexpected success, Avani whirled around to follow through with another blow on his shoulder. He reached up and grabbed the blade of her sword as it descended upon him. She gasped in shock as he slowly raised the blade higher and higher, unconscious or unconcerned as it ate through his heavy gauntlet and sliced into his hand, until he had lifted her clear off the ground. Holding her dangling before him, face to face, he narrowed his eyes. Then again, he thought, women were trouble—trouble best avoided. He certainly didn’t need any distractions from his goals.

Seething at the ease with which he had stopped her attack, Avani writhed and twisted her back and hips, swinging her leg as hard as she could to kick him in the groin. Anticipating her response, he swung his blade down to block her kick, and although he used the flat of his blade, nevertheless the edge caught her leg, biting into her shin.

“I grow weary of this game,” he growled in his deep voice. He flung her back, sword and all, to the ground, then began to stalk his prey. Avani had resembled a swallow in flight in her attacks—swift and agile as she twisted and whirled and darted to and fro. Bhima, however, moved with the slow, controlled grace of a leopard as he moved in. She blocked him as best she could, scrambling out of the way when pressed—but although she was swift, she wasn’t swift _enough_.

Another quarter hour, and the match was over. He stood over her, the tip of his blade pressed between her breasts. Blood still ran down his fingers and arm from the few cuts he’d received, but she was scored by myriad crimson lines. Although none of her wounds were grave individually, the sheer number of them weakened her to the extent that she could no longer even raise herself up from the ground.

With the razor-sharp edge of his curved blade, he sliced through the remnants of her blouse, then her skirt, and finally her undergarments. Flipping the tattered fabric to the sides with his sword, he looked down at her bare, bloodied skin as she lay gasping, staring vacantly skywards. He reached down and grabbed her, hauling her limp figure up and slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. He picked up her weapon, and returned indoors, dropping their swords by the door before continuing upstairs to their room.

He whipped the coverlet back and dropped her, unconscious, down on the bed, then he lit a lamp and removed his clothing. The cut in his arm was fairly deep, though hardly debilitating. The slice in his hand was more troublesome, though less severe, and as he balled his hand into a fist, blood oozed out and trickled down his wrist in rivulets. In addition, she’d managed to land a blow across his side. His coat had been damaged, to his annoyance, but it had absorbed most of the force of the blow, leaving only a scratch across his ribs. He cast a healing spell on himself, watching with satisfaction as the wounds closed and faded before his eyes. Then he turned his attention to his wife.

First, he removed the remains of her clothing, tossing them into a heap in the corner of the room. Then turning to a small cupboard in the carved wood paneling next to the bed, he rummaged through the drawers inside for a minute. He selected a few items, and dropped the chain of an amulet around his neck. Finally, with a smirk, he turned back to her.

Pulling her arms up over her head, he fastened her wrists together with a pair of metal cuffs linked together with a short chain. Then he ran a strong cord through the chain, tying each end to the two tall posts of the headboard. After checking to ensure the knots were strong, he turned around and snapped cuffs around each of her ankles. He ran a cord through a metal loop on each of them, tying the other end of the cord to the correspondent posts at the foot of the bed. Then he tightened her bonds in order to allow her only minimal movement—enough to squirm and writhe, and no more.

Once she was bound, he cast a healing spell on her, and as her wounds closed, her eyelids fluttered and she groaned. A second healing spell revived her, and she looked around first in confusion, then in panic as she apprehended her situation.

Bhima, still unclothed, straddled her legs, leaning over her with his hands planted on the mattress on either side of her ribs, the crescent-shaped amulet around his neck hanging down before her face. His eyes were scornfully amused as she began to writhe beneath him, struggling in vain to escape her bonds as his lips stretched across his teeth in a wide, feral smile.

“I win,” he intoned, reaching out to run a finger down her cheek, her neck, her breast and her belly, stopping at the softness beneath which her womb lay and tapping a finger there. Leaning down to bury his face in her neck as she struggled to pull away, he said in a seductively low voice, “You need only to give me that which I ask of you, then you will be free to pursue your lover in peace. Such a simple request, really. Just give me what I want from you, and you will have nothing more to fear from me.”

Then he sat back, and with a harsh look in his eyes, he added, “But continue to defy me….” With that, he raised his amulet and slipped the chased and bejeweled silver cover off to expose a huge, sharpened tiger claw. He slipped the chain from his neck, and lightly ran the point down her belly, leaving a slender red line in its path as she winced.

Leaning down again, he grinned into her face as he said, “Do you remember our wedding night?” His grinned widened still further as she involuntarily shuddered. “Remember how you had been painted so elaborately?” She stared at him, refusing to answer, which seemed to amuse him rather than anger him. Again he leaned back, and he began to trace delicate designs in her skin with the tip of the claw, leaving beautiful scarlet designs on her delicate skin until her breasts and abdomen were covered in fine red lines and her tightly closed eyes could no longer hold back the tears. Then he set the amulet aside, and pushing her thighs farther apart, he forced his way into her, savagely biting into her neck like a wild animal until he was finished.

He rolled off her and out of bed, then he untied her restraints on the farther posts, retying them to the posts on the side of the bed where she lay. He stood over her, her blood smeared across his chest and abdomen and thighs and tainting his softening erection, and he smirked. “ _This_ time, my _wife_ , you won’t be able to immediately run away to wash my seed from you. Perhaps if I leave you like this for a while to think over what I have said, it’ll have a chance to take root.”

Then he extinguished the lamp and climbed back into bed next to her, still stained with her blood, quickly falling asleep while she lay there weeping silently in the darkness.

* * *

 

Avani woke the next morning when Bhima threw the covers off and rose. He disappeared for several minutes, leaving her still bound to the bed. When he returned, she saw he’d washed away her blood from his skin and that he carried a basin of steaming water and a sponge in one hand and a towel in the other. He set them down, pulled on his trousers, and sat next to her on the bed. He cast a healing spell on her, then squeezed the excess water from the dripping sponge and washed the dried blood from her.

As he bathed her, she looked at him, asking, “Why?”

“I’m not letting you out bloodied and injured for all to see. Besides, you need to keep healthy if you’re going to have my children. The wounds are meant to admonish you, not weaken you.”

“No, I meant… I meant why _me_? You said something about a prophesy, but… that’s the first I’d ever heard of it.”

He snorted as if in disbelief. After a moment, he said, “When you were born, one of the seers—the one that named you, I don’t remember which one it was now—declared that you would one day change the fate of the world. I had already begun to desire to bring about a change among us—among our people—to return us to our former strength and glory. And even then I recognized that it would be critical for my family’s line for me to have sons and heirs. A woman that had been so marked seemed to me ideal for my plans—who better to give birth to my sons, than a woman who was to change history? After thinking about it for a while, I realized that my ambition and your prophesy fit together: you would marry me and give me sons, and with these sons, I would overthrow the stagnant, weak governments that had sprung up over time. Then once again the Ventuani would rule the land, and we would rule the Ventuani, my sons and I.”

“But… but my father is the Ra’mara, and _Rishi_ is his heir—not _me_ ,” she replied her eyes opening wide.

He made no reply, but instead roughly toweled her off. Before releasing her, though, he looked her squarely in the eyes and said, “Remember what I told you. _Stay away_ from Sundara—at least until you have fulfilled your duty to me. I will _not_ be tricked into rearing the cuckoo’s chick. If you continue to defy me… it will not go well with you. Once you have borne my sons, you may have your freedom to pursue your interests as you wish.” Then he unfastened her bonds, returned them to their cupboard, and left without so much as a glance behind.

* * *

 

Once her morning work was completed, Avani made her way to the sibylline temple, where her twin could often be found studying in the library. Essentially blind since birth, he needed an assistant to read to him from the scrolls and tomes collected there. She found him there this morning, sitting in the warmth of the sunlight shining through one of the great glass windows as the student who had accompanied him that day read to him from one of the more recently acquired volumes—apparently he had an interest in metallurgy that morning, judging from the text the boy was reading aloud.

Hesitating in the doorway, her approach unnoticed by either reader or listener, she watched her brother with a soft look in her eyes. She loved her twin dearly, and although she was his elder by only nineteen minutes, she had always felt protective of him.

They had little in common, physically—with his green-gold hair and exceptionally pale eyes, he looked more like their father’s people, while she favored their mother’s family, which had a high proportion of Avanani born among their ranks, from which she inherited her green hair and eyes. And Rishi had the broad-shouldered, tall build of their father, while she was slender and lithe, most resembling her mother’s mother in all their family.

Despite his handicap, Rishi was the first to become aware of his sister’s presence. He smiled and stood, holding out his hands to her as she stepped forward. “Avani, my love! I’m surprised, you seem to have spent most of your spare time in the woods lately.”

She glanced uncomfortably at his assistant, who quickly stood, saying, “Shall I leave, sir?”

Avani answered for him, though, turning to her brother to say, “I was hoping that you might have a little free time to walk with me, my brother.”

He nodded, his expression turning grave at the tone of her voice. “Certainly, sister. Nirav, will you please look through that and those other books for information on copper alloys, especially any that involve aluminum as well. You can read your discoveries to me upon my return.” With that, she took his arm and led him outside, stepping through one of the open tall windows to the veranda outside.

The temple was perched on a low, undulating rise on the side of the mountain, surrounded by enchanting gardens—the finest the Avanani could create. The gardens were not merely decorative, either, but were filled with fruits and vegetables for the temple’s use, and many herbs and flowers with medicinal properties. They were maintained by the Avanani scholars and their students as part of the younger generations’ education.

It was here that Avani led her brother, to one of the benches in the midst of the fountains, where the splashing water would obscure their conversation to any passers-by. She dropped to the bench, and he sat next to her, turning his face to the warmth of the sun as it slowly rose towards its apex. He waited patiently, knowing that his twin would speak when she was ready and not a moment before.

Finally, in a voice barely audible above the fountains, she said, “It’s… Bhima.” Rishi quickly turned and looked at his sister, though all he could see were blurred patches of green and white and pale gold. However, though he couldn’t see the tears threatening to overflow her eyes, nor her troubled expression, nor the way she nervously picked at the hem of her skirt, he could sense all that within her.

“Yes, my love? What of him?” he asked, cautiously. Though they had never spoken of it, he knew what he had suffered at his hands before he’d been taught to control his telepathy with her. And she knew that he knew, that he had experienced _everything_ with her; every single, agonizing, humiliating thing her husband had done to _her_ , he’d inadvertently done to her brother, too. She also knew that the experience was what had driven him to confess his telepathic link to her to their father, resulting in the training that brought him, if not exactly peace, at least some respite.

She paused again staring with unseeing eyes at one of the fountains. “I-it’s… things are getting worse. He… he even resorted to healing me after… after what he did last night, so that nothing would show. And he says it will just keep getting worse as long as I keep seeing Sundara and refusing to have children.” She leaned over and began to sob, as her brother’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t imagined it _could_ get worse…. “I don’t know what to do,” she gasped. “Sundara is all that keeps me going, sometimes. I don’t want to lose him! And I can’t stand the thought of bringing more… more _monsters_ like Bhima into the world.”

He reached out, and finding her head bent over her lap, he slowly stroked her hair as he thought. After some hesitation, he said, “My love, I wish I could do something for you. Perhaps… perhaps you should give in to his demands. At least bear him a child. Once you’re pregnant, he won’t dare to hurt you for fear of harming your child, and it won’t matter if you continue to see Sundara then—there can be no question of parentage if you’re already pregnant.”

She drew back in horror of the idea. “Rishi, I-I can’t believe you’re suggesting that! Can you imagine more like… like _him_ in the tribe?”

“You can’t know that your child would certainly take after him,” he replied slowly. “He or she might just as equally take after you. Perhaps you’d have a child like me—resembling the father outwardly but the mother inwardly. You just don’t know.”

She stared at him, then shook her head in vigorous denial. “I can’t bear the idea of something of… of _his_ growing inside me. And even if he _says_ I’ll be free once I’ve given him a son, who’s to say that he wouldn’t extend that to two sons, or three, or a dozen? And that isn’t even counting daughters. Who knows _what_ he’d do to me if I had a girl child instead of a boy?”

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her over to him, tucking her head under his chin as he sighed. “I can’t tell you what to do, love. You’re already the strongest person I know—certainly much stronger than me. But… you don’t have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders, dear sister, nor even the weight of the tribe. Take care of yourself, and don’t worry about the rest of us. After all, what can he do to the whole tribe?”

Avani shuddered, then rose, rubbing her arms as if chilled despite the warmth of the sun. “I can’t… I can’t imagine letting him… I can’t imagine having his child. But… I promise I’ll think about what you said.” Then she led him back to the library, and slowly walked away, deep in thought.

Returning to the village, she saw Sundara sitting in the village green with a small group of young boys and girls clustered around him. Since completing his education three years ago, he’d taken on some of the teaching duties, which had later expanded into a full-time occupation after his former teacher, Kavi, had passed away. She smiled at the sight—Sundara loved children. She felt a keen regret that she could not give _him_ children—tribal custom strictly forbade it, and she would have been banished if she had violated that taboo. She wondered if he’d marry someday, as his parents continued to pressure him to do. So far, he’d shown no interest in marriage, to their chagrin. The thought of it filled her with apprehension—she couldn’t bear to share him, but neither could she belong to him, and she couldn’t deny him the joy that a family would bring him. Sighing, she wandered over and sat beneath a mango tree—the very same tree that he’d been seated beneath that day when she discovered she loved him, almost five years ago—and waited until he dismissed his class for the day.

When they were alone, he came over, puzzled by her unusual appearance in the middle of his class, and held out a hand to her. “Shall we go for a walk?” he asked, pulling her up. To his surprise, she shook her head, not looking him in the eyes. “What is it, beloved?” He looked at her anxiously, wondering how badly she’d been treated this time. “I must say, you look surprisingly well, considering the events of last night. I take it things didn’t go as badly as usual?”

She shuddered violently, and he drew back, startled. “He… he used a healing spell afterwards….” she said in a low voice. His eyes opened wide at the implication, and he put his arms around her. Still looking at the ground, she continued. “He says… he says that things will keep getting worse as long as I continue to see you and to deny him children. He says that once he has what he wants from me, he’ll leave me alone—leave _us_ alone. But until then….”

“I… had no idea,” he murmured, holding her tightly.

“No… no, you don’t,” she whispered, and he drew back in alarm, wondering what more….

“Then you must at least consider doing what he says, if only to save yourself. If it really is so bad… I don’t want you to put yourself in danger. I’ll wait for you, you know that I will—though a thousand years should pass, I’ll wait for you.”

“Rishi says the same—that I should give him what he wants, for my own safety. But Sundara, you don’t know what it’s like… and the thought of _that_ growing inside me—of bring something like that into the world—something that is part him and part me…. It sickens me just to think about it.”

Sundara sighed. He hated the thought, too—he wanted her children to be _his_ , not Bhima’s. But he knew that was impossible, not without causing her still greater harm. He could never ask her to give up her home, her family, everything that was familiar to her. But more than anything, he wanted her to be _safe_.

“Well, my love, the choice is yours. But perhaps for the time being, for your own protection, we should avoid meeting in private.”

She looked up quickly, then, tears in her eyes as she said, “Sundara, no! That-that’s all I have. _You’re_ all I have. I couldn’t stand it….”

“Shh, love. Listen to me. As long as you want to remain with me, I will be here for you. But if you _must_ continue to do so against your husband’s commands—rightly or wrongly given—at least let’s do so less often and with more caution. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

* * *

 

Eventually, they agreed to meet privately no more than two or three times a week at most, and not on any schedule. They agreed on a hidden place where they would leave messages for each other, in order to arrange their assignations in secrecy. Then she walked back down the path to her house, where she sat sipping tea and thinking until her husband at last returned, then she stood and went to the kitchen to prepare the evening meal.

He walked in as she stood chopping herbs to season the stew she was preparing, and stood in the doorway watching her. She was aware of his eyes on her, but she was reluctant to turn to meet them. Finally he grunted and turned away, closeting himself in his study from the sound of it. She relaxed then, and when the stew was done, she took a bowl to him, leaving it on the side of his worktable without a word before retiring.

Alone in their bed, she shivered at the thought of the previous night. She lifted the sheet aside and glanced down at her bare chest and stomach, still scarcely believing that every trace had vanished. But though she shifted around in the amber lamplight, she could see no sign of even faint scarring. Her skin was as flawless as ever.

She heard heavy footsteps on the stairs then, and quickly pulled the covers up and lay back, feigning sleep as he walked in. He looked down at her and smirked—he wasn’t fooled. He turned and removed his clothing, then slid under the sheets next to her. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and pulled her onto her back, looking down at her—pleased to see her pupils dilating in fear. Perhaps there was hope for her yet, he thought.

“I understand that you saw your lover today,” he began, then when she opened her mouth to protest, he clapped his hand over her mouth to silence her. “But as it would appear that you at least remained in public, I will overlook it. For now….” He removed his hand and flipped the sheet from her, leaving her shivering despite the warmth of the tropical night. “Since you were at least somewhat obedient, I will forego the… _embellishments_ tonight.” He reached out a hand to touch her cheek, and then pinned her down by her arms as he positioned himself over her.

Afterwards, he blew out the light, then said into the darkness, “See how much more pleasant that was for you than last night? Once you have agreed to fulfill your duty to me, you will be surprised at how gentle I can be.”

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes as she listened to his breathing slow, remaining awake while he slept. She wondered about what he’d said—if he really _would_ be kinder to her, if he would follow through and leave her alone, once she’d supplied him with children. Then she tried, seriously this time, to think of what it would be like to just give in, to be pregnant—pregnant with _Bhima’s_ child—and probably more than once. Rishi’s comment, that he’d have to be gentle with her once she was carrying his child in order to avoid harming it, popped into her head, and she thought about what it would be like to have her husband treat her gently, perhaps even kindly.

Then her eyes flew open as she realized what she was considering, and she instantly rejected the idea with all her being. She had always guarded her thoughts carefully, knowing that the Ventunisi, the women of her tribe, had since ancient times possessed the ability to control their ovulation by will alone. Therefore it took only a moment of weakness, and suddenly the risk of pregnancy was a very real one. Thinking of that, the blood drained from her face, and she again shivered in fear.

Two and a half weeks later, she knew. Ever since her induction into womanhood at the age of eleven, her cycles had been as regular as clockwork. So when Winter 26 came and went with no sign, and the 27th and the 28th likewise, she _knew_. And she was terrified.

* * *

 

Bhima scaled back the abuse after that night, as she hadn’t been caught alone with Sundara. However, they continued to meet, striving for the utmost secrecy. They didn’t meet as often, or on any schedule. Instead of going to his house, they met in different places, well hidden within the forest, leaving hidden notes for each other to arrange their trysts. Although she resented the need for the subterfuge—they were doing nothing wrong, after all—she also knew what the consequences of discovery would be.

Then one day early in the spring, he found them out. She didn’t know how—they’d been so careful. But she returned home one day after a rendezvous in the forest with Sundara followed by an afternoon drinking tea with her mother, and found him waiting for her, livid. He silently dragged her up the stairs to their room and threw her down on the bed, ripped her clothes off and slowly, methodically, removed his own. Then as she lay there, frozen and speechless with terror, he opened a hidden panel—one that she’d never noticed before—and pulled out a small wooden chest, turning to her with unmistakable menace and rage in his eyes.

Afterwards, she was grateful for two things, anyway. First, that her walk with Sundara had, for once, been nothing more than a walk, since she couldn’t even imagine what he would have done had there been traces of another man on her. And second, that she blacked out several times, since that at least offered her some temporary respite. She was sure that he must have healed her more than once that night, since she couldn’t imagine how else she survived it as well as she did. Fortunately, the mind is protective of itself, and she recalled little besides pain and the smell of blood and scorched flesh and even more pain.

She woke the next morning and instantly regretted it. Still bound, she was immobilized by a combination of knotted ropes and pain. As before, Bhima left to clean himself, then returned to bathe the traces of blood and other fluids from her after healing her wounds. He healed her enough that no marks remained, but she was still stiff and sore and found it painful to walk. As he removed her bonds and returned the small ebony chest to its hidden alcove, he said sternly, “Remember your lesson well, wife, for I’m reaching the end of my patience. _Stay away from your lover_.”

Avani remained at home that day, too sore in both body and spirit to venture out. She hadn’t told him her secret yet—that he had finally succeeded in getting her with child. She dreaded doing so, though she knew sooner or later he’d find out. Furthermore, she was still appalled that she’d dropped her defenses, however briefly, long enough to become pregnant. However, since there was no undoing what was already done, she considered finally telling him that day, despite her fears. There were two likely outcomes that she could foresee: either he would be pleased and back off on the abuse to avoid harming the child, or he would question the child’s parentage—in which case, the abuse might not only continue, but could even worsen. It was this latter possibility that she most feared.

However, before she could definitely decide one way or another, she made a discovery—fresh blood on her thighs where none had been before. And before the sun went down, she learned that although healing spells could repair a tremendous amount of damage… they could not restore life to the lifeless.

She kept the whole thing to herself, fearing Bhima would blame _her_ for the loss—and what his response would be. He grunted at the sight of red that night when he came to her, and commented that her cycle seemed late, suggesting sardonically that she take better care of her health. He still forced himself on her—he did every night, no matter what, never missing an opportunity to further intimidate and control her. But at least he was quick about it, and afterwards he rolled over and went right to sleep, leaving her alone with her tumultuous thoughts.

* * *

 

Avani didn’t leave her house the next day, either, nor the day after that. Not until the fourth day, when at last the bleeding had abated somewhat, did she feel able to leave her house. She wasn’t up to the company of others, though—she didn’t think she was capable of acting normal quite yet. In fact, she wasn’t even sure what normal meant anymore. She’d always assumed that most marriages were at least congenial, if not exactly loving. Now she wondered—was she alone in this… this abuse? Or did this sort of thing go on behind the closed doors of her tribe all the time, the women too ashamed or fearful to speak up, even among each other? She thought of her parents, of her grandparents and aunts and uncles… and she thought of Sundara, and how tender and loving he was with her. And she rejected the idea that her husband’s actions were anything like typical. _Maybe_ there were others, maybe she _wasn’t_ the only wife in her tribe to be so abused. But she couldn’t believe that it was normal, either. She was also keenly aware that her one year anniversary was approaching, and with it would go her last chance to escape her marriage. Yet her father still denied his only daughter’s claims, insisting that if there _was_ any abuse, she brought it on herself with her recalcitrance.

She wandered alone through the woods, making her way by indirect means to the place where she and Sundara left messages for each other. Unsurprisingly, there were a few notes waiting there for her, his increasing concern evident in the words they held. She stood staring down at them, torn between love and self-preservation. At last, she pulled a folded note from her pocket and left it there, then she slowly returned home, her heart beating hard and tears welling in her eyes at the decision she’d made.

* * *

 

Sundara was worried, _very_ worried. It had been four days since he’d last heard from Avani, or seen any sign of her, and his notes to her remained untouched in their secret place where he’d hidden them. He didn’t know what to do—he wanted nothing more than to burst through their front door and rescue his lover from whatever hell she was presumably being subjected to, taking her far away from her beast of a husband. But he knew that he had no chance of success. He was a musician, with no fighting skills whatsoever, while her husband was powerful and well-trained in combat. He was realistic enough to know that any such attempt was likely to end in his death and worsen things significantly for her. And while he would gladly have given his life if it would have saved her, he had no reassurance that would be the case.

He thought on this and more as he picked his way through the dense woods towards their hidden cache, where they left their messages to each other. Upon his arrival, he froze for an instant, seeing that it had recently been disturbed. After staring for a moment, hesitant and uncertain, he slowly moved forward, looking and listening all around him as he approached the spot. Nothing seemed suspicious, though, so he took a cautious look.

All of his messages were gone—that was the first thing he noticed, and he felt both hope and fear surge in his breast. Hope won out, though, when he saw that there was a new note, which he quickly snatched up, reading the brief message greedily, like a thirsty man stumbling across a spring of pure, clear water. It was short—his heart ached at how short!—but it was _her_ handwriting asking him to meet her the next day shortly past midday, west of the path to the rocky cliff. He straightened up and again looked cautiously around, then tucked the note into a pocket and returned, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. She was alive, at least… but he was not yet sure if she was _well_.

* * *

 

Bhima rose a little earlier than usual, leaving Avani asleep in bed. She’d been tolerably submissive since his last admonishment, so he’d rewarded her by foregoing the little extras. He didn’t really care either way—he knew some enjoyed that sort of thing for its own sake, whether giving or receiving. To him, though, it really was nothing more than a lesson taught—and ideally, learned. He would brook no insubordination, whether from those he’d drawn into his service or from his wife. Absolute obedience was what he required.

That said, there was a particular thrill about the way he dominated his wife so completely—the way she would cringe and whimper and writhe in pain and fear, yet he still could make her respond to him physically, even against her will. He still remembered the first time he brought her to a shuddering climax, sobbing with shame and disgust the whole time at her body’s betrayal. In fact, he thought of it quite often, and it had motivated him on more than one occasion when his nightly ministrations had begun to pall, frequently spurring him to new heights.

He was fairly confident that he had her all but broken to his will by this time. In fact, he was certain he would have succeeded long ago if it hadn’t been for Sundara. His face darkened as he thought of her paramour. It wasn’t that he cared so much whether she had a lover—or a thousand lovers, for that matter. However, it disrupted his plans to have her able to seek out comfort, to have something in her life that gave her hope and renewed her battered spirit. He needed her to be crushed beneath his heel before he could rebuild her into a useful tool for his ambitions. And Sundara was preventing that from happening.

Then a cruel smile stretched his deceptively beautiful mouth, baring his teeth in a feral grin.

* * *

 

When Avani awoke, she was alone in the house. She was tired—so very tired. Even though Bhima hadn’t kept her up as late as he sometimes did, she had slept poorly, dreaming much but resting little. At least she wasn’t in pain this morning, and when she checked while bathing, she found the bleeding had virtually ceased.

She dressed in a simple skirt and blouse and cooked some porridge for her breakfast, though when she sat down, she found she had little appetite for food. She ended up throwing the untouched cereal to the hens, watching them eagerly peck it up while she drank a cup of tea, squabbling over the dried fruits she’d stirred in while cooking it. Finally, the hens had consumed every morsel, and they began to disperse, clucking softly as they scratched the earth in search of insects.

She stood watching them for some time, thinking to herself that if somehow she was ever free of her husband, she’d like to have a small farm. A few fields, some livestock, and hens—that would be just perfect. And perhaps even Sundara there by her side…. Then she recalled the meeting she’d set up with him later that day, and the light that had begun to illuminate her eyes again faded as she turned and slowly returned to the house.

* * *

 

Sundara waited impatiently at the appointed place, his eagerness to see his lover again thwarting his efforts to avoid arriving too early. He didn’t want to attract attention, if anyone should happen to pass through, by just standing there in the woods, obviously waiting for someone. Yet there he was, pacing back and forth as he listened for any sign of her approach.

When at last he heard the sound of vines being pushed aside, he whirled around. She was coming, at last she was coming! he sang in his heart of hearts. But as she approached him, her expression was so heartbroken, so demoralized, that it made him ache for her.

He waited for her, rather than running to meet her, his eyes locked on her as he drank in every detail. She looked down at the ground as she walked, carefully avoiding the many uneven spots on the path. Her long, pale green hair was drawn back into a braid that reached her knees, and she wore simple white and brown clothing, as she often did, rather than the bright colors and rich embroidery that most Ventunisi favored, that she herself had once favored—until her marriage, that is.

So much about her changed after that. He suspected much but knew very little, as she rarely opened up to him about what she suffered. Yet it was clear to him that she _did_ suffer—more than even he could imagine, he thought. Again he wished that he could somehow set her free, that he could return her to the happy, carefree girl she had been once upon a time. But all he could do was to stay by her side as long as she would let him and offer her whatever comfort he could.

Then she looked up as she neared him, and looking into her eyes, he realized even that small service was about to be denied him, and his heart sank.

“Sundara….” she said, stopping before him, almost but not quite within his reach.

“Avani, my love. I’ve been so worried about you. I won’t even ask if everything is okay, because I can see quite clearly that it isn’t. And you don’t have to tell me that it’s due to Bhima, because that, too, is obvious.”

“Obvious?” she said, looking up quickly and with fear.

“Obvious to _me_. I doubt anyone else would notice anything amiss, except perhaps your brother.”

Her shoulders slumped in relief as she nodded her head. “Though even he….” her voice trailed off, not completing her thought. He waited in silence, aching to hold her but respecting the boundary she had set. After a moment, she looked back to the ground, and in a voice poignant with defeat and grief, she said, “I’m sorry, Sundara. I… I can’t see you anymore. It isn’t that I don’t want to—there’s nothing I want more. But I can’t… it’s just… he’s….” she faltered, her voice choking up as her shoulders heaved with the effort of repressing her tears.

Oh, how he wanted to hold her, to comfort her one last time! But he just looked at her, and he knew that if it had come to this, that she genuinely felt that she had no choice—that living without him had become more bearable to her than continuing to see him against her husband’s demands.

“Come, my love, walk with me a little while. Just this one last time?” he said, as she looked up at him fearfully. After some hesitation, she nodded, and silently turned to walk by his side, and she didn’t deny him when he reached for her hand.

They walked along the path in silence—all that could be said had been, while all that should be said lay beyond the reach of mere words. They came to the rocky precipice and stood looking across the verdant hills of their homeland, both remembering that morning nearly a year ago when he pulled her from the brink of death and into his arms for the first time. And so he reached for her, this one last time, bending down to kiss her tear-stained cheeks, tasting the salt on her lips.

He cradled her face in his hands, looking into her eyes searchingly, pained by all he read there. “Avani, my beloved, I wish I could somehow spare you this pain, that I could release you from your bondage. If somehow my life could buy your freedom, I would gladly give it for you.”

At the edge of the woods there was a sudden rustle of leaves high in the trees followed by a thud. Avani turned, startled and frightened, expecting to find a leopard or other great cat stalking them, thinking it had found an easy meal. But what she saw was infinitely worse.

It was her husband.

* * *

 

He had landed in a crouch, and as he slowly rose, he fixed his gaze on them like a predator on its prey. “Fine words,” he growled as he began to move towards them. “Let us see how sincerely you meant them, shall we?” With that, he lunged at the younger man, knocking Avani to the side as he reached out for him.

Sundara ducked under his grasp and rolled to the side before leaping to his feet. He needed to think, to strategize—he was no match for Bhima, armed or not, and he knew that all too well. But he had no time to think, barely time to react as the tall man spun with surprising speed and agility. Bhima leaped at him, aiming a kick at his torso. He turned, and instead caught the blow in his ribs, knocking the breath from him as he felt something crack. He doubled over, gasping, as Bhima landed and spun, swinging his leg out into a back kick. This time it connected with his jaw, and he was knocked backwards, bleeding from a split lip.

As Bhima stood over him disdainfully, reaching down to grab him by his shirt and haul him up to his feet, Avani suddenly leaped onto his back, holding his arms back. He snarled furiously and swung side to side, quickly dislodging her. Flung back onto the ground, she lay there blinking and dazed as he turned on her, growling, “Keep out of this, woman!” Then he grabbed her by her hair and hauled her up, swinging her like a rag doll before throwing her back into the bushes.

He turned again to Sundara, who had by then recovered his breath. Knowing this was a battle he could not win, he hoped only to buy Avani time to flee. He prayed that she would get up and run—and keep running day and night until at last she was safely out of her husband’s reach. Then he straightened up and looked Bhima in the eyes, and he saw only death there.

Bhima again lunged at him, this time connecting, driving his shoulder into his rival’s chest and knocking him to the ground and sending him rolling down the slight slope of the large rock towards the edge. Unable to draw a breath, he flailed, seeking a handhold, but there was nothing—not even a vine or a bush—between him and the edge. He felt himself slipping, his legs swinging out over the edge of the overhang as he continued to slide.

Then as he fell from the edge, a hand grasped his arm, jolting him as he suddenly ceased to fall. Looking up, he saw Avani there, leaning over the edge, her face contorted as she struggled to maintain her grip on him while seeking the handhold that had eluded him. She wriggled, trying to work her way back from the edge and pull him up, but she was weak from neglect and abuse and although her progress slowed, still she continued to slip forward nearer and nearer to the edge.

“Avani, let go! You’re going to fall—you can’t save us both! Let me go and save yourself!” he shouted up to her, the fear of her death diminishing the fear of his own.

She didn’t answer, all her strength focused on fighting gravity for its due. Gasping, she cried out, “Bhima, please! Help me! He’s slipping—he’s going to fall!”

Standing back from the edge, watching their struggle, he snorted at her pleas. “Surely you jest, my wife,” he growled. “Why would I save _him_ after all his interference? I warned you—warned you _both_ —several times, yet still you persisted in your defiance. His death will be on _your_ head, yours and his alike.” And he stood motionless as he watched and waited.

Struggling and sobbing, she tried again. “Please! I swear, we met only so that I could tell him that I couldn’t see him anymore, that’s all! I was doing what you _asked_!”

Bhima strolled forward, looking over the edge at his rival swinging in empty space, his long green hair blowing in the light breeze as he stared back up at him with perceptive eyes that had already looked into infinity. And he smiled with a cruel satisfaction as he turned his back on them and walked a little distance away.

Sundara looked Avani in the eyes, grey gazing into green one last time, as tears streamed down her cheeks and fell to his. “Avani… let me go. I can do nothing else to save you, and you cannot save me. Go, my love, and live—live to see a happier day. If Ventu wills it, I will watch over you from his sunrise kingdom.” Then he loosened his grip… and he fell, plummeting to the rocky pool far, far below.

Her scream tore through the heavens, and as she looked down upon the waters of the shallow pool slowly turning crimson, she gathered herself up. Crouching at the edge, she leapt into the air, preferring death with Sundara to life without him.

But she was jerked backwards to the ground by her braid, and her husband stood scowling over her.

“No, you don’t,” he snapped. “I will tell you this, Avani kumari Acanda, you _will not_ escape me, no matter what you do. Even death will not keep you from me. Accept your fate, for _I_ am your fate.” Then he pulled her to her feet, still gripping her hair tightly in his hand. He glared into her eyes, a strange light glowing from deep within the emerald depths. “You will keep this to yourself,” he commanded her. “Not a word will you speak of it, other than to say he slipped and fell to his death—an accident, and nothing more. Need I remind you of my _other_ threats? Against, say, your brother—your dear, gentle, _helpless_ brother?”

She gasped, her pupils dilated from shock. “Now that I am rid of the interloper, you are mine—utterly and completely. I trust there will be no further… diversions? I would hate to repeat today’s amusing little caper _too_ often.”

Avani just stared at him, speechless and dazed. He stared into her face for a few moments, then a smirk slid across his lips and he released her, letting her fall to the ground. He removed his jacket and unfastened his trousers, watching her as she stared uncomprehendingly up at him. Crouching next to her, he ran his fingers lightly down her breast and abdomen, then flipped her skirt back. Oh yes, he thought to himself as he pushed her thighs apart, this was going to be unusually enjoyable. Something about taking her like this, so soon after disposing of her lover, and even within spitting distance—more or less—of his still-warm and bleeding corpse… yes, he found that thought very much to his liking. It awakened something so very primal in him.

Positioning himself between her legs, he thrust into her relentlessly, glorying in the knowledge that he alone possessed her now, and as he emptied his seed into her, biting down on her neck as he called out hoarsely with the unexpected intensity of his pleasure, he found himself almost hoping that she might someday defy him and take another lover— _almost_.

He left her lying there, with his seed and her blood drying on the rock and her thighs, still staring blankly in shock. He strolled back through the woods, well pleased with his day’s efforts, and almost eager for the night to fall, when he would once again assert his mastery over his wife.

* * *

 

Some time after Bhima had departed, Avani finally roused from her stupor, almost startled to find that Bhima had taken her there on the rock, as she had no recollection of him doing so. Still, the familiar stickiness between her legs showed that he had indeed been there. She drew her legs up and sat, shaking violently and sobbing, her arms wrapped around her legs and her face pressed against her knees. She wept for some time, until a cool wind chilled her and sent another shiver through her—this time from the cold rather than shock.

She jumped slightly and looked up, startled by the loud “May- _awe_! May- _awe_! May- _awe_!” of a peacock calling very near to her. She looked all around, but saw no sign of it, and so she started to rise in order to get a better look.

Gasping in surprise, she saw at her feet the delicate, lace-like feather of a white peacock, though none had been there moments before. Lifting it in her hand, she looked all around, but no further flash of white caught her eye. She looked at the feather as she stood there, and then she remembered the words Sundara had spoken to her some weeks ago as well as his final words to her.

Touching the feather to her still-wet cheek, she whispered, “Yes, my love. It will take far more courage to live than to die. But I _will_ live—and I will carry with me your belief that happier days lie ahead for me, though I cannot see them from where I stand. I will live—and you will live on in my heart.”

Then she turned and slowly walked down the path to the village, the echoing cry of the peacock following her footsteps.


	3. To the Victor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I set out to write chapter 70 of The Winds of the Past, to my surprise, I wrote this one-shot instead! It's a little glimpse into Avani & Chanda's past. It begins early in chapter 70 and is told from Leon's POV. Rated T.

The morning after our arrival in the village where Avani grew up, she and I wandered out to the terrace in back of the spacious house, searching for the others and for our breakfast. Rishi and Sharmila were seated at one of these tables, side by side and deep in discussion, and Dylas paced the terrace restlessly. Chanda apparently hadn't yet come down, as she was nowhere in sight. The others looked over as we strolled out, and Rishi rose with a warm greeting, echoed by his wife. Dylas nodded to us as we sat opposite the pair at the table, and started towards us.

At that moment, Chanda appeared, and made a beeline for the vacant seat next to Avani, just as Dylas reached for the chair. They stopped and stared at each other, glaring, then Chanda snapped, "What do you think you're doing, you pervert? Get away from her!"

" _Who's_ a pervert?" Dylas growled, scowling.

" _You're_ a pervert!" Chanda shouted back.

"Chanda! Dylas! What is all this?" Sharmila scolded, frowning at her quarrelsome guests.

Chanda flushed, then pointed at Dylas as she replied, "It's his fault! He tried to get into bed with me last night!"

" _I was half asleep and accidentally went into the wrong room_ _!_ " Dylas bellowed, his face crimson with anger.

Chanda crossed her arms over her chest as she glared again at Dylas. "So you _say_. But you sure weren't in any hurry to get out of my bed again!"

" _I was confused!_ "

Chanda opened her mouth to respond, but Sharmila cut her off. "That is _quite_ enough from _both_ of you. Chanda, Dylas just made a mistake, I'm sure. Did he actually do anything to harm you? Make any unwanted advances?"

" _Any_ advance from him would be unwanted," she muttered in reply. "But no, he… just sat there looking stupidly at me as I tried to shove him out of my bed."

"See? I _told_ you, it was just a mistake! Besides, _you're_ the one who was sleeping in the buff, _pervert_! And why would I want to try anything with _you_ , anyway, you harpy?" Dylas snapped.

Chanda just stared at him for a moment, then turned and ran back into the house. " _Dylas_!" Avani exclaimed, her eyes flashing with anger. "You _ass_! Now you've hurt her feelings!"

"She started it," he muttered, slipping into the chair next to her.

"I don't _care_ who started it. You _could_ have ended it." She sighed, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

"I'll go talk to her, love. You stay here and rest," Sharmila said, rising and heading towards the door.

"Thank you," Avani called after her as she disappeared. Then she turned to Dylas with a frown. "Listen, I know you aren't really the most tactful person ever—and neither is Chanda. But please _try_ to understand… she's had such a rough life, and she has a hard time trusting others—especially men. So please, for my sake, try to be patient with her. She's prickly at first, I know, but inside she has a heart of gold—just like you do."

Dylas sat in sullen silence for a minute, then shrugged and said, " _Fine_. I'll try to be nicer. But only because _you_ asked me to. And if she doesn't want to be called a harpy, then she shouldn't act like one."

"That's like saying that if _you_ don't want to be called a horse, you shouldn't act like one," she replied, wryly.

" _Damn_ it, Avani, I'm not—"

"—a horse. I _know_ that—no one better. I was trying to point out that just because something _may_ be true _doesn't mean you need to say it_."

Before Dylas could reply, the doors opened, and two servant girls came out with our breakfast, followed by Sharmila and a very reluctant-looking Chanda. She led the surly girl to the table, guiding her to the seat next to hers as dishes of food were set out before us—warm bread with butter and honey, slices of some white, crumbly cheese, a selection of fresh vegetables and fruits, and steaming pots of fragrant tea.

Glancing at the small amount of food Avani had put on her plate, I quietly added more while asking, "That reminds me. Didn't you mention something about Chanda's father trying to sell her? Can that be?"

Sighing as she looked at the heap of food now on her plate, but refraining from protest, Avani reached for a slice of bread and began to spread it with butter. "Yes. In a manner of speaking." She looked over at Chanda, hesitating from a sense of delicacy. The silver-haired girl looked up and met her glance, and seemingly understanding the unspoken question, she shrugged one shoulder as if to say, 'Do what you will, I don't care.'

Avani bit into a slice of juicy mango as she thought. After a moment, she took a long sip of the hot tea and settled herself as if to tell a tale.

"As I said before, I've known Chanda all her life. She was born in the winter before my third birthday, and I can just barely recall her birth. My mother had been there to assist, as she often did with childbirth. Since the children of our tribe are not sheltered from _any_ aspect of life, from birth to death, she always brought us with her. I recall the shock that went through the roomful of women when Chanda first opened her eyes, and they saw that she was different. From then on, my mother and hers were the only women that would touch her. But when I looked at her, I thought her eyes were beautiful, so while the other women fled and my mother tended to Chanda's mother alone, I sat and held her, as delighted with her as if with a new toy. And from then on, she was my nearly-constant companion, second only to Rishi, at least until I began my education. She was too young to come with me then, but when the time came for her to finally join me in my classes, she was denied the opportunity, simply because she looked a little different. That was when it really hit me that even if we were all equal in _Ventu's_ eyes, we weren't all equal in our _own_.

"But it was when her fourteenth birthday drew near, the age when it was customary for betrothals to be arranged if they hadn't already been, that I realized just how much unfairness there could be among our people….”

* * *

 

Chanda tore down the uneven path, slipping a little as she plunged headlong, tears blinding her eyes. Her feet knew the path, though—knew it well, as they had traveled it countless times in her short life. As she hoped, she found her friend—her only friend, she often thought to herself, though that wasn't _quite_ true—sitting with her back against a large mango tree, playing some pretty tune or other with that… that _boy_ she'd taken such a liking to, her brother sitting nearby as he listened to their duet.

Interrupting the musicians without a second thought, she threw herself at her older friend, sobbing as she flung her arms around her neck. The startled young woman set her instrument aside, saying, "Chanda? What is it? Why are you crying so?"

Her—well, her boyfriend, she supposed, though the thought was like a bitter tonic—likewise set his instrument down, waiting in patient silence. She wished that he'd just leave— _both_ boys—and let them be alone for a change. She had no use for boys and couldn't see what anyone else saw in them.

"Oh, Avani," she sobbed, "it… it's my father. He… he says no one will marry me because of my cursed eye. So I told him that I don't _want_ to get married—that I _hate_ boys. But he got mad at me and said he certainly wasn't going to keep a cursed woman in his house—that he'd have gotten rid of me years ago if anyone would have had me. But not even your dad will take me in, not even as a servant. So he… he said that since no one will marry me… he’s going to sell me as a concubine. Practically a slave! And he said if no one in the _village_ buys me, then he'll take me away and sell me to the videziya, to some outsider. And who knows what _they'd_ do to me! And… and I'd never see you again!" She began to sob even harder, then.

Avani looked up, startled and dismayed, first at her brother, then at her companion, both of whom also appeared shocked by Chanda's announcement. She stroked her friend's shaggy silver hair, saying, "Shhh, don't cry, Chanda. We'll figure something out. The idea of selling you off to someone in the outside world…. It just seems so wrong."

"As wrong as forcing a girl to marry someone against her will," her companion murmured, earning a sharply reproving look from the green-haired girl at his side.

"Here," she said, gently loosening the girl's grip on her, "sit by me and we'll see if we can think of something, the four of us together."

They sat in silence for some while, pondering what to do. Finally Avani's eyes lit up, and she said, "I just remembered a story from one of my books, about a princess whose father wanted her to marry a prince. But she knew that if she married, her husband would one day be king, and she would only be his consort, even though she was the daughter of the king. She wanted to be a queen and rule like her father, not just a consort. She tried to refuse to marry, rejecting all her suitors, until her father lost patience with her and said that the next man to ask for her hand would surely be given it, and good luck to him. She still refused, though, and said that she would only agree to marry him if he could prove that he was more worthy to rule than she was—if he could outsmart her in a battle of wits. Well… what if you did something like that?"

Chanda shook her head. "You know that wouldn't work—even if you've tried to help me, I'm not really very smart. I'm made for fighting, not thinking." She sat looking at the ground for a minute, then she looked at Avani. "But what if… what if I said I'd only agree if someone could beat me in combat? I think I'm a pretty good fighter, certainly better than a lot of the boys and men in our tribe. I could tell him that I'd only agree to be sold to someone that could beat me and any other challengers in a fight. And if _he_ won, then I'd marry whomever he wanted, or even let him sell me to the videziya, if that's what he wants."

"And if he refuses?" Sundara asked in his gentle voice.

Scowling at him from around Avani, she said, "Then I'll run away. I'd rather live alone in the jungle than be sold off to just anyone! At least my plan will give me a fighting chance!"

"Still," Rishi added thoughtfully, "although I have no idea of your skills, what if you find that the men and boys of our village are harder to beat than you thought? Especially your father?"

"Well," she replied, a little stiffly, "I don't think _that's_ very likely. And I doubt there will be many takers, anyway, if no one wants me as a wife just because they believe all that stupid curse nonsense. Still, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have a backup plan, just in case…."

"Maybe _I_ could fight for you," Avani said, thoughtfully.

Chanda turned to her friend, her eyes lighting up. "You would do that for me?"

"Well, I'd try, anyway. Just be sure you don't say 'men' or 'boys' or anything when making the arrangements with your dad, and then he can't deny me. I _think_."

"What will you do if you win?" Rishi asked, anxiously. "You'd have to at least pay the bride-price for her then, even though of course you can't marry her."

"Unfortunately," the girl muttered under her breath, flushing as she quickly glanced at Avani, who was too lost in thought to have heard.

"Well, I've been saving up my allowances for some time now, and I've also earned some money working for some of the farmers and selling the animals I've raised. I could use that. I don't know if it's enough, though…. How much was your father hoping to sell you for?" she asked, turning to her red-faced friend.

"I think he didn't have very high hopes. I think I recall him saying that he could probably get more for a decent milch cow than for me," she replied with a shrug.

"Well, I think I have enough for a cow, so I might have enough for you. _If_ you can persuade him, that is—I know how stubborn he can be."

"I'll see to it!" Chanda jumped up, looking hopeful once again, and ran back up the path towards her house.

"Remember—don't say 'men'!" Avani called after her, then sat back with a sigh, leaning her head against Sundara's shoulder.

"Do you really think it will work? And weren't you actually saving that money to buy a cow to breed?" he asked her, as he reached for her hand.

She shrugged. "Who knows? She might be able to talk him into it. At least _she_ has a chance of persuading _her_ father," she added, with some bitterness, and he squeezed her hand in sympathy.

* * *

 

Chanda's father had, after some deliberation, finally agreed to her terms, thinking to himself that it probably wouldn't hurt anything and might even generate some interest in the little harpy. And so it was decided that in two weeks, the competition would be held.

To Chanda's surprise—and her disgust—there were a decent number of applicants. It was finally decided that the competition would be arranged tournament-style, with the winner of the tournament fighting Chanda first, and so on down until someone finally beat her or until there were no more challengers to beat.

Most of the combatants were callow youths, and these were quickly weeded out. Soon, it was down to four competitors: an older man, formerly a fighting instructor, who wanted a servant girl to warm his bed in his waning years; a middle-aged man, a foreigner that had somehow heard of the tournament, and who stated that his intent was to show her in carnivals for a time, then sell her into service at a brothel, perhaps even in the capitol; Chanda's father, who turned out to be a better fighter than Chanda had expected; and a slender youth who spoke not a word, nor removed his helm even between battles.

In the semi-final round of the tournament, the youth faced Chanda's father, while the carnival operator fought against the older fighter. Unsurprisingly, the fighter won against the foreigner, but surprisingly, Chanda's father lost the competition. The onlookers were amazed by the youth's vigor and acrobatics, and murmured that while he lacked refinement, he showed remarkable promise.

In the final round, the old instructor faced off against the youth. The crowd was keen to watch this battle—would experience and sharply-honed skills win, or would youthful energy and raw, unrefined talent carry the day?

The two opponents faced each other, the older man wielding a large, heavy wooden sword, and the younger selecting a pair of short wooden swords. Only training weapons were used, as the fight was simply until a combatant was incapacitated, not to the death. The older man immediately charged at the younger, feeling that, by now, the slim youth must be wearing down despite the healing spells provided between fights. He swung his sword, and to his surprise, his opponent leaped up and over his blade, flipping neatly over and landing on his feet behind him with cat-like reflexes. The fighter whirled and raised his sword as the youth spun around and swiped at him with his short swords. He succeeded in blocking the onslaught, but before he could renew his assault, the youth had dropped down and swiped a kick at his legs, knocking him off his feet.

The crowd immediately began to chant, counting towards the time limit before the youth could be declared the victor, but the older man struggled to his feet again, despite having the wind knocked out of him. The pair circled each other, the older man trying to catch his breath while the youth stayed his hand and allowed him to do so—and they both knew it full well.

From then on, the youth seemed to merely toy with his elder, dancing and darting around him like a leaf in the wind, bending to duck below or leaping to jump above the broad blade while occasionally raining blows on the older man's person. After a while, the fighter began to tire, and when at last he couldn't raise his sword immediately after a failed attempt to strike the youth, his opponent seized the opportunity and leaped at him, landing a powerful kick squarely in the center of his chest, and he was unable to block it in time. He flew back into the crowd, landing on his back, gasping and staring wide-eyed as he struggled to breathe. The crowd again began to chant the countdown, and as soon as they reached the end, they cheered loudly for the winner as he stepped forward and helped to defeated old man to his feet. "Who _are_ you?" the fighter asked, curiously, as he shook the youth's hand. "I thought I knew the fighting style of every man and boy in the tribe, yet I'd swear I've never sparred with you before." His opponent merely smiled and shook his head before quickly returning to the center of the ring, where the youngest of the seers stepped forward once again to heal him.

"So looks like _he'll_ be fighting Chanda first," one of the older boys in the crowd said to his friend. "Hey, where's Avani, anyway? She's the only one that really likes that ol' harpy, except maybe her brother. I'm surprised she's not here to watch."

His friend shrugged, not taking his eyes from the youth waiting in the ring. "Rishi says that she was too upset to sit and watch her friend get sold off. I guess she's off sulking in her room or something. Girls…." He shrugged again as his friend nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But you know, if this was a tournament to win _Avani_ …."

"Oh, yeah, _she'd_ be worth it. What a shame—some guys have all the luck," the second youth said, and they both glanced across the ring to where they could see Avani's betrothed, standing taller than all those around him, his long, silvery-white hair dazzling in the sunlight as he watched the ring with evident boredom.

Standing just behind the boys, Sundara overheard their conversation, and following their gaze to his rival on the far side of the crowd, he ruefully agreed.

* * *

 

The crowd parted to allow Chanda to pass through to join her opponent, a long wooden sword in her hand. They circled each other, sizing each other up and getting a feel for each other's movements. As before, the youth allowed his opponent to attack first, and Chanda leaped at him, bringing her sword down on his helm. But as before, he dove and flipped out of the way, landing on his feet for scarcely a moment before flying at her with his swords. She raised her sword in defense, but he easily slipped under her guard and swiped at her lower legs with his weapons, leaving long red marks that immediately began to swell and darken into bruises.

Swearing in pain and hopping back, first on one foot and then the other, she glared at her opponent, her face red with humiliation. She hadn't expected any really _good_ fighters—and she had thought she would do better than this. There was no turning back now, though, so she braced herself, preparing to do the best she could.

The youth smiled, and charged at her. Chanda raised her sword to strike back in defense, but to her surprise, the youth leaped up, landing on her blade. An instant later, he propelled himself off of it and into the air above her. He flipped mid-air, swinging his legs around into a kick as he plummeted towards her. She leaped back, but he appeared to have calculated her reaction. He landed with a forceful kick squarely on her chest, driving her down into the bare earth. She screamed in pain as she felt ribs cracking, and he quickly leaped back and landed next to her. The crowd gathered around, chanting the countdown, but before they could even reach the end of the countdown, the youth knelt at her side. Placing a hand on her chest, he murmured a healing spell, his voice inaudible above the cries of the onlookers.

Chanda rose and glared at him. Technically, the fight was not over as she had risen before her time ran out. But she _knew_ that it was over—she was standing only because this young man had cared enough for her well-being to risk losing the fight by healing her. She stared at him, defiantly and proudly, then she dropped her gaze and her sword as the crowd gasped in surprise. "You win," she said, harshly, then turned away.

As the crowd began to cheer, her father pushed his way through to the youth. "Well, well. So you're the, ah, lucky man. All that remains is payment of the bride price and the girl is yours to do with as you will, young sir." He grinned in eager anticipation, waiting impatiently.

The youth gave him a look of pure revulsion, then gestured to someone in the crowd. A moment later, a young servant girl pushed her way through, carrying a good-sized wooden casket in her hands. She handed it to the youth, who in turn passed it to Chanda’s father. He quickly opened it and rummaged through it, calculating the value of its contents. After a moment, he closed it again with a satisfied nod. Turning with a leer to the victor, he said, "Well, this will do… this will be just fine. Now, good sir, may I have your name?"

The youth turned towards Chanda, who stood to the side, glaring and defeated, and gestured for her to join him. She reluctantly approached him, and he gripped her arm with one hand. With the other hand, he removed his helm at last.

Long, pale green waves tumbled down, reaching halfway to the ground, and sea green eyes stared coldly into his shocked face. "I am Avani kumari Acanda, Princess of the Ventuani, and I have paid your price for your daughter. She is no longer yours—she belongs to _me_ now. I have paid above and beyond the price you set, because I wish her to remain under the care of her _mother_ until she is able to leave your home. However, she will remain under my protection, and you will not again attempt to sell your daughter to another, whether Ventuani or videziya."

The onlookers gasped in delighted shock at this revelation, and even Chanda stared, speechless. Avani turned to the crowd and shouted, "You have all witnessed this transaction, which is legal and binding under the laws of our people." After a brief period of murmuring, the crowd shouted in agreement—the transaction had been affirmed and validated by the tribe.

Behind her, Chanda stood behind her friend and embraced her, leaning her forehead against her back to hide from the crowd as a small, pleased smile played about the corners of her mouth.


	4. To Have and To Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another story of Leon & Avani, which takes place not long after the end of The Winds of the Past. Rated T.

It was the sixth day of Summer, three days before Leon’s birthday—what would be his thirty-first birthday, if you didn’t count the centuries that he lay dreaming in the tower of Leon Karnak. He’d never imagined such contentment as he now claimed as his own: married nearly a year to the love of his life, who was now heavy with their first child—or children, rather—due to make their appearance in the near future. His wife was beautiful, strong, and clever—all he had ever hoped for, yet she was so much more than even the most ambitious of his dreams had ever imagined.

He found steady work these days, too, translating archaic scrolls and texts for the government and scholars as well as chronicling what to him had been current events but now was ancient history. He enjoyed the work for its own sake; while enjoyable, the money was no longer a necessity. Avani’s farm was thriving, and as both the Acting Princess of Selphia and the Baronet of the Selphian Plains, she was provided with substantial living quarters in the castle. More than enough space for the two—no, _four_ , he corrected himself with a satisfied grin—of them. And still plenty of room for their family to grow even more. He pushed his chair back from his desk where he sat working on his current commission, stood and stretched, and went downstairs to grab some lunch.

As he rummaged around the refrigerator, trying to decide if he wanted to grill some mackerel or just stroll over to Porcoline’s Kitchen for lunch, he heard the front door open and close and low voices in the main chamber. Recognizing his wife’s voice, he was just about to call out a greeting when he heard her say, “Oh, good. It looks like he’s not in. Let me grab a couple of things really quick, then let’s hurry to the airship before he gets back.”

Startled into silence, he heard the wardrobe door open, followed by the sound of cloth rustling and a click as the door shut again. Her voice once more as she moved towards the back of the suite, saying, “Okay, ready? Let’s get going, hurry!” And then the back door opening and closing, followed by silence. He stepped out, and gave a delicate sniff with his sensitive nose. He smelled the scent of his wife, but he also picked up another familiar scent: the earthy smells of leather and spices steeped in a potent stench of pheromones.

It was the scent of Dylas, his wife’s former lover.

* * *

 

How long he stood there in a daze, he wasn’t entirely certain. But after some time had passed, he pulled himself together. He didn’t understand what had happened, why Avani had gone off somewhere with Dylas alone and with such secrecy, but he was sure there must be a reason. There _had_ to be—she loved _him_ , after all, and had finally chosen him over Dylas. And she certainly had _seemed_ happy with him… hadn’t she? He hadn’t noted any signs of discontent. Or had his own happiness clouded his vision?

Shaking his head to clear it of the bewildering conundrum, he returned to work. His concentration was broken, however, so eventually he gave it up and decided to go fishing. A nice rainbow trout or possibly even some lamp squid might make him feel better. Or maybe something for Avani… what was it that she liked so much again? Shrimp, he thought. She particularly liked shrimp.

In the end, he came home with only a couple of smaller trout. Finding that Avani was still gone, he went ahead and cleaned and grilled them for his dinner, trying not to fret at her lengthy absence. Although it was rare these days, it wasn’t entirely unheard of for her to be out late, missing their evening meal. Some days he only saw her in the morning when he woke her at the start of the day and again at night when she returned late at night, climbing straight into bed. And very, _very_ rarely she hadn’t returned until after he’d already gone to sleep, alone in their large bed.

That started him thinking… he hadn’t noticed at the time, but now he wondered if there had been any trace of Dylas’s scent on her some of those times. He wouldn’t have remarked on it, probably, if there had been—the two had remained close friends, and Dylas often accompanied her out in the wilderness when Leon himself had been unable to do so. He knew the young man still harbored a passion for Avani—he was too transparent to hide it effectively. But he’d never entertained the possibility that perhaps his wife still reciprocated those feelings, still loved both men now as she had in the past. She had called off her relationship with Dylas willingly, after all, so she couldn’t… could she?

Then the memory of a conversation returned to him. That spring, while the three of them had spent some time in Avani’s home village after the return of her memories, he’d had an argument with Dylas one morning. Dylas had reminded him that now she’d recovered her memories, she might wish to avail herself of her tribe’s custom of taking extramarital lovers. The mere suggestion had rocked him to his core, but he had seen no hint of such a desire in her and had at last dismissed the idea—until now. He’d assumed Dylas had been referring to Avani’s dear friend, Chanda, who also had an intense crush on her. Now he wondered if it was _himself_ that he had in mind, instead. It was an uncomfortable and fruitless line of thought, and he determined not to pursue it… if he could help it, that is.

* * *

 

Leon lay alone in their bed, trying not to mark the time that passed far too slowly, waiting for his wife to return home. The moon had reached the apex of her nightly journey and had begun the descent to her starlit bed before he finally heard the soft scratching of a key in the lock of their front door. Realizing that for once in his life he didn’t know what to do or to say, he feigned sleep. Footsteps that would be barely perceptible to most thundered in his own sensitive ears. Two sets, rather than one, and they cautiously crept past the bed where he lay motionless, heading into the kitchen. His nose detected her scent and Dylas’s, as well as… fresh grass? And water, fish, and moist earth. The pungent, salty scent of sweat, and a myriad of other, lesser outdoorsy scents. But, he noted with relief, not… _that_ scent. Sweat, yes, and the unmistakable scent of Dylas’s desire for his old lover. But not the scent that he’d always detected on her after she had been _with_ him. Whatever was going on, at least it hadn’t gotten _that_ far out of hand… yet. Or so he hoped….

He smelled the clean, fresh scent of raw fish and heard the sound of a knife slicing through soft flesh, and decided she must be preparing Dylas one of his favorite foods: sashimi. More footsteps, and they departed through the back door into the gardens. He heard low voices, but they were too faint for even his keen ears to make out the words. After a while, the sound of her footsteps as she returned and went to her wardrobe, then the rustling of light fabric. Footsteps to the kitchen, water running, the scrubbing sound of a toothbrush, then splashing and the muffled sound of a towel rubbing on soft skin. A moment later, she returned and sat on the edge of the bed to brush her long hair. Then she lay down, carefully so as to not disturb him, and slowly drew only a sheet over herself. A minute later, her breathing slowed and she was asleep.

Once he was sure that she was sleeping soundly, Leon opened his eyes and slowly rolled over, looking at the still form of his wife as she lay on her side, her back to him, her belly huge from the new lives straining within their confines. His eyes, like those of a fox, needed no supplemental light to see her clearly in the waning darkness. Despite his fears and misgivings, he felt his heart melt as he looked at her, obviously exhausted after her long day. The pregnancy was getting to be a strain on her, too, yet she refused to slack off even a little, keeping up with her farm work, her housework, her duties as Acting Princess, and her nearly-daily forays into the wild, patrolling her domain. He gently leaned over her to softly kiss her cheek, then suddenly drew back in alarm as he caught Dylas’s scent, surprisingly strong on her cheek. He then realized that she was fairly engulfed in it: her face, her hair, her arms—every part of her that he was able to discreetly sniff contained some trace of his smell mingled with hers. And his heart froze, wondering at the implications.

* * *

 

Avani woke to the scent of something delicious, making her ever-hungry stomach growl. She sat up just as Leon emerged from the kitchen, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He sat on the edge of the bed and handed her the coffee with a kiss. “Good morning, My Lady,” he said as she gratefully sipped the hot beverage.

“Good morning, Leo. Is that _pancakes_ I smell? What’s the occasion? You don’t normally get up so early, let alone make me pancakes!” she said, smiling fondly at her spouse.

“No occasion,” he replied. “I just want to be sure my favorite wife is getting enough to eat. It seemed as though you had a busy day yesterday—you were out quite late, weren’t you?” (Was that a faint blush on her cheeks, or was he only imagining it?)

“Ye-e-es, it _was_ rather late when I got back,” she replied, quickly taking another drink of her coffee. “You were already asleep. I’m sorry I didn’t get home sooner. I had some things to take care of, and it took longer than I’d expected.” Leon just nodded, wondering what business could possibly keep her out so late and require both Dylas’s presence _and_ so much secrecy from him.

“Well, come on out to the kitchen, My Lady. You can tell me all about your day while we eat.”

Avani turned slightly pale, and said, “Oh—well, you know, my day wasn’t really at all interesting. Why don’t you tell me about yours? How’s that translation going?”

Leon saw through her attempt to deflect his attention by refocusing it on himself. It might have worked another time, as he found his work quite interesting, but this time he recognized the ruse for what it was. However, he chose to play along—for now.

After they had finished breakfast, Leon pulled Avani to him, saying, “I’m concerned for you, love. I think you should ask Clorica and Vishnal to take over your farm duties at least, if not more. You know they are quite capable of caring for your beasts and crops under your guidance. Why don’t you speak with Volkanon about it now, and then we can spend the rest of the day together? We can do whatever you like—anything at all. I missed you last night, you know.” He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, waiting for her to reply.

She stiffened slightly and turned pale again, then said, “Oh… I’m so sorry, Leo, but I’ve already made plans. I’ll probably be gone all day again, maybe even until late. I’ll _try_ to get home for dinner tonight, but….”

Leon stood very still for a moment, then forced himself to smile down at his wife, saying, “Well, never mind, My Lady. Perhaps another day. I’ll pack you a lunch while you tend to your farm chores.”

Despite her ungainly size, Avani finished her chores very quickly. She slammed the lid down on the shipping bin, darted back into their home, dropped the seeds that she had kept from the day’s harvest into storage, placed the milk from her buffamoos into the refrigerator, and quickly grilled and refrigerated some rainbow trout for Leon. She had also continued her habit of fixing Dylas something to eat even after she’d married Leon, so she grabbed that as well, dropping the container of still-hot creamy porridge into her pack as she dashed back out of the kitchen.

She kissed Leon goodbye, gratefully accepting the vegetable stir-fry that he’d made for her lunch. “I have to run,” she said, settling her pack on her shoulder, “but I put some grilled rainbow trout in the fridge for your lunch later. I’ll try not to be too late, but I just don’t know how long my day’s tasks will take—or if I’ll even manage to finish today.” Another quick kiss, and she was gone.

His brow furrowed as he watched her leave, and although he’d never considered such a thing before, he wondered if he should follow her. He shook his head—what was he thinking? He’d always trusted her before, and she’d never given him cause to do otherwise. He didn’t understand what she was up to, but he would continue to trust her, though it might not be easy to just stand by and do nothing. He had to believe that things were not as they appeared, and that, in time, he’d learn what lay behind her recent odd behavior.

* * *

 

Before settling down to his day’s work, he decided to bathe in the inn’s bathhouse. He walked in the door and greeted the owner, Lin, who stood behind the front desk, greeting customers as they wandered in. He noticed that she looked worried today, and asked if everything was okay. “Oh!” she replied, looking startled by his question. “Why, yes—yes, of course! Everything is just fine. I _definitely_ did not see Avani dragging Dylas off to who-knows-where on the airship this morning!” She looked confused and thought hard about what she’d just said. “Oh… wait….” Lin was sexy and sweet, but rather dim and easily confused, even by herself.

Leon stiffened at her words, then forced himself to relax. “I’m sure they’re just out training, Lin,” he replied, though he felt far from certain inside. “Anyway, I’d like to avail myself of your excellent baths, please.” She nodded as she took his payment, still bewildered, and waved him towards the door to the baths. He headed on in, noting the scent of bergamot, jasmine and ylang ylang emanating from the ladies’ side while the men’s baths were scented that day with bergamot, clary sage, and oakmoss. He especially liked this particular blend, and found soaking in it to be soothing. So it was with some return of his equilibrium that he scrubbed himself down in the showers before stepping into the steaming, fragrant water to soak. He lowered himself into the hot bath, breathing the scented steam in deeply and exhaling a deep sigh of satisfaction.

Leon was so relaxed that he barely noticed patrons entering the ladies’ baths, until his sensitive ears picked up Avani’s name in their conversation. Perking up, he heard voices that he recognized as Margaret’s and Forte’s deep in discussion. Although they spoke in hushed voices, his hearing was so acute that he had no difficulty eavesdropping. And since they were freely discussing his wife—and him, too—he had no qualms about doing so, either.

“I’m sure there’s nothing in it,” he heard Forte say. “Avani’s just too honorable. She’d never break a vow, _especially_ a marriage vow.”

“Well, _maybe_ , but I know what I saw!” Meg exclaimed. “I haven’t seen the two of them spend so much time alone together since she broke up with him and married Leon. And whenever I see them together, they’re as thick as thieves. I don’t know what they’re up to… but Dylas looks like… like the cat that got the cream! That’s why I’m worried…. Poor Leon, I hope everything is okay between them.”

“Well, I can’t say I approve of her choice in husbands, you know,” Forte said, making Leon wince and smile ruefully to himself as he thought of the myriad reasons for her unfavorable opinion of him. “Really, he is just over the top. I think she’d have been _much_ happier with Dylas. But she made her choice, and I can’t believe she’d turn her back on her husband, especially not with those babies on the way. But I agree, it _is_ peculiar behavior for her, and even if it’s all innocent—as I _hope_ it is—it still looks bad. It must be difficult for Leon, too, that is, if he even knows.”

After that, their conversation turned to other matters, and Leon slid down again into the waters of the bath, thinking about what he’d heard. If Avani was behaving in a way that made others talk… well, that affected _both_ of them. He decided that he needed to talk to her, that very night when she returned from wherever she’d disappeared to for the day. He needed to _know_ …. He left the sentence unfinished, even in his thoughts, unwilling even to name his fears.

Leon waited up that night until well past midnight. By 5:00 the next morning, he decided she wasn’t coming home at all. He felt a queer chill in the pit of his stomach, and wondered where she could be, and why… and what had gone so wrong so suddenly.

* * *

 

He fell into a fitful sleep shortly before 6:00, and when he awoke a little after 11:00, he found signs that she’d come and gone. Looking in the refrigerator for something to grab for a quick meal, he discovered a freshly-grilled fish wrapped up and placed on a shelf with a note attached to the lid of the container. It read:

Leo, sorry I was so late. Things aren’t going well, and I couldn’t make it home last night. I stopped by just long enough to change clothes, do my chores, and make you a lunch. You were so soundly asleep you didn’t hear me, and I didn’t want to wake you. Hope to be home much earlier tonight, but don’t feel you have to wait up for me if I’m not. Love, Avani

He slammed the refrigerator door closed, his appetite gone. What was going on with his wife? What could be so incredibly urgent that it kept her away from him, and in her present condition, too? _Was_ she unhappy? Was she unhappy with _him_? Did she want Dylas back, after all? He realized that he wasn’t going to get anything useful done that day, at least not in his current frame of mind, and decided to spend some time away from town. He could use some exercise, he thought, so he decided to go monster hunting. He packed a few things, grabbed his gear, and headed for the airship.

As he reached the dock, Lin strolled up to him. “Going somewhere?” she asked brightly.

“Yeah, I thought I’d go get some exercise. I’ve been spending too much time at my desk, poring over musty old scrolls,” he replied. He’d always been fond of the innkeeper and her sweet if klutzy daughter, thinking of her as sort of a surrogate aunt, and Xiao as more of a little sister—much as he had once thought of Maria, though thankfully with different results.

“That sounds fun!” she exclaimed. “Mind if I join you? I could use the exercise, too.”

“Umm, well….” Leon paused, not sure how adept the pretty woman could be at combat.

Sensing his hesitation, she added, “Oh, and don’t worry about me! I’m really not _completely_ helpless, though I admit I’m a bit rusty.”

Sighing, he said, “All right, you can come along. Let’s start someplace fairly tame, though, until I have a better idea of just what you can handle.”

“Oh, I can handle _quite_ a bit, I promise,” she replied with a wink and a smile. “Let me get my things—I’ll be right back!”

A few minutes later, she came hurrying back, her arms full of gear. “Okay, let’s go! I’ll put my things on while we travel. Where are we going?” she asked enthusiastically.

He thought for a minute, then said, “Let’s go to Sercerezo Hill. There are usually some intermediate monsters there, and access to tougher ones if you seem ready. Plus it’s a pretty place, and a nice break from the heat of summer.”

“Perfect!” she exclaimed, strapping a breastplate on over her dress. He directed the airship pilot where to go, and off they went.

Lin favored a spear, same as Leon, but to his dismay, he found that her weapon was nothing more than a safety lance, such as those used for friendly sparring and for lessons. He sighed, realizing that she wasn’t going to be any use with that. So he took her through the path to Idra Cave, doing all the fighting himself, then stopped after clearing the area in the vicinity of the cave’s entrance. They sat and rested, enjoying the mild spring weather. Back in town, it had been a _very_ hot day. Leon lay back on the grass and dozed, still tired after his all-night vigil, while Lin hummed happily and picked flowers and herbs to take home.

After a little while, she sat on the grass next to him, waking him from his doze. “You know,” she said after a moment, “I’ve been hearing some… _rumors_ lately. About Avani and Dylas. Is it true? Is she really leaving you for him?”

He sat bolt upright, startled, and said, “ _What_? No, certainly not. She’s just been busy with some project lately, and apparently he’s helping her. Everything’s fine as far as _I_ know.”

“Ahh, but what if it _isn’t_ fine, and you just _don’t_ know?” Leon didn’t know how to answer that, so he remained silent. Lin sidled a little closer, leaning towards Leon as she said in a low voice, “If things don’t work out, you can always come back to the inn, you know. There will _always_ be a place for you there.”

“Oh, ahh, I doubt I’ll need to, but thanks,” he replied, looking at her dubiously. “Though even if I did, your inn’s usually full these days.”

“You needn’t stay in one of the _guest_ rooms,” she interrupted, leaning even closer and running a fingertip lightly over his bare chest. Leon stared at her in shock, too stunned by her implication to reply.

She moved even closer, resting her shoulder against his chest, saying softly, “I find you very attractive, Leon. Did you know that? I’ve thought so ever since you first arrived in town.”

Turning red, Leon pulled away, saying, “Hold it, Lin. What are you saying? You’re married— _I’m_ married!”

“My husband chooses to be gone for months, even years, at a time, so sometimes I turn to others for… _comfort_ ,” she replied with a shrug, sidling closer still. “And as for _you_ … well, as I said, I’ve been hearing things.”

Before he could respond, there was a flash of light behind them, and he heard Avani, groaning in dismay, “I can’t believe even _Idra_ has failed me. Dylas, what am I going to _do_?” He turned and looked, just as Avani turned around and saw him sitting there, with Lin inappropriately close to him. “ _Leon_?” she exclaimed, looking and sounding shocked as she stared at them.

“M-my Lady!” Leon stammered, leaping to his feet, causing Lin to nearly fall over. Behind Avani, Leon could see Dylas, glaring from him to Lin and back again. He knew it probably looked bad to them—but he also knew it looked worse than it really was, if he could just explain to her. He took a step towards her… but she suddenly incanted the escape spell, and she and Dylas vanished from sight, leaving him alone with Lin in the deepening shadows of late afternoon.

Standing and staring at the spot where his wife had been standing an instant before, Leon suddenly felt irrationally angry—with Lin for her unwelcome and ill-timed advances, with Avani for her inexplicable behavior, with Dylas for his continuing passion for Avani, and—perhaps most of all—with himself. He wasn’t even sure _why_ he was angry with himself, because he wasn’t sure what exactly was going on. But he was angry that he’d been unable to keep things from getting to this point, for not seeing… not realizing sooner…. Without looking at Lin, he said tonelessly, “Get your things. I’m returning you to town.” He heard a sigh and movement behind him, then footsteps approaching him. Before she could say anything, he cast escape to return them to the town gates, then he stalked off towards the airship without so much as a backwards glance at her.

* * *

 

Leon sat at the base of the tower of Leon Karnak, leaning against the cool stone wall. He often came here when he needed to think or to just get away for a while. The upper levels were populated with a variety of dangerous monsters, but the terrain around the base of the tower was barren and deserted. Still, rumors of the tower’s monsters kept most from even approaching the tower, so it was an ideal place to go when he needed solitude. Besides, it was a significant place to him—a place of so many beginnings and endings in his life.

He often talked to Maria here, sometimes thinking he could almost feel her presence there. He did so now, trying to make sense of what was happening with him and Avani. “I don’t know what to do,” he mused aloud. “I love her, Maria, more than I ever thought possible. And I couldn’t bear to lose her. We’ve been through so much together, she’s become integral to my life. Yet I feel as though she is suddenly fading away, slipping through my fingers. And I don’t know how to stop her.”

As he spoke, he suddenly realized what he needed to do. He needed to _see_ Avani, to talk with her face-to-face. It all came down to communication—he had no idea what was going on, and only Avani could change that. With renewed resolution, he stood up and cast Escape until he returned to their rooms. He changed into his pyjamas and made a pot of coffee. He was determined to wait up this time, no matter how long it took for Avani to return home. And he was determined to talk with her and not let her put him off again. He sat in a chair by the cold fireplace, lit a lamp, and settled down to read and drink coffee until she arrived.

* * *

 

A couple of hours past midnight, he finally heard the key in the door. Avani never cast escape directly into their bedroom late at night except in an emergency—she knew the flash of bright light would wake him, and she was innately considerate of others. Setting his book down, he stood and faced the door. A moment later, it quietly opened, and in stepped Avani, Dylas close behind her. They stopped and froze when they saw him standing there, waiting, watching them.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat and looked at Dylas. “I’d like to talk to my wife. _Alone_.” The younger man flushed, but nodded and turned to leave. Before he could step back outside, though, Avani grabbed his arm.

“Wait, Dylas,” she said, then turned to Leon. “Please wait just a little longer, Leo. I promised to feed him. He’s been out with me all day, and I’ve been keeping him too busy to eat.” Leon wordlessly raised an eyebrow at her, then nodded curtly, sitting back down and picking up his book again as they passed through the chamber and into the kitchen.

A short while later, they returned. Dylas nodded to Leon, saying good night to them both as he left through the back door to take the shortcut through the castle gardens to his room. Leon watched Avani as she placed a plate of grilled shrimp on the low table before him. “I made something for you, too,” she said, avoiding his eyes. Then she changed into her nightgown before sinking down with a tired sigh on the sofa near him, absently rubbing her distended belly.

Ignoring the shrimp—though they smelled enticing, more so than usual since he hadn’t eaten all day, either—he came over and sat next to her. He held her hands and looked at her, saying, “My Lady. What exactly is going on? I don’t understand why you’re acting this way. You’ve got me worried, and people are starting to talk.”

She looked at him in surprise, saying, “Talk? About what? I don’t understand what you mean.”

Leon sighed and looked away, saying, “There have been… rumors. That things aren’t going well with us, that you regret your choice, that… that you’re leaving me. For Dylas.”

Her shocked eyes filled with tears as the blood drained from her face, and her mouth opened, but no words came out. Finally after a few minutes, she managed to say, “Leo, I… I had no idea. Why would anyone say things like that? It isn’t true! None of it!” She looked up at him, her eyes imploring him to believe her. “I have _never_ regretted my choice, not for a single second. And Dylas is no more than a friend to me. I… I know he’s still attracted to me, but it’s all one-sided, I swear. I’m sure _someday_ he’ll meet someone else and get over me. And I most certainly am _not_ leaving you—not for him or for anyone or anything. Dylas has just been helping me with… something. That’s all. I had no idea anyone would misinterpret something so harmless as that. I guess it must have looked worse to others than it really was.”

She looked down at the floor, tears still in her eyes, and said, “But… what about _you_ , Leo? I saw you and Lin earlier. Do you… do you regret _your_ choice? Are _you_ unhappy?”

He pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her as she nestled her wet cheek against his chest. “No. I have no regrets about marrying you, except perhaps that I didn’t do it sooner. And any unhappiness I’ve felt recently was only due to the fear that _you_ were unhappy and that I might lose you.” He felt her sigh and held her tightly, as though still afraid she would somehow vanish. “I suppose, as with you, things simply looked worse than they really were. Lin apparently finds me attractive, but I don’t reciprocate in the least.”

Avani giggled a little then, saying, “Of course she does, silly. Didn’t you know that? I think every female in town thinks so—even Forte, though she’d never admit it, especially now that she’s marrying Arthur!”

Leon opened his eyes wide in surprise, his cheeks burning. “Are you joking? No, I had no idea. After all, I never had eyes for anyone but you,” he said as he rested his cheek against her hair.

After a few minutes, he pushed her back to look into her face. “One more question, love. I know that among your people, it’s customary—even encouraged—to take a lover after marriage. Do you… do you wish to… to….” His voice trailed off, half-afraid of her answer.

“Do I wish to claim my birthright and take another lover?” she asked. He nodded, his eyes full of mute misery. She leaned her head against him and replied “As I’ve said before, the idea behind that custom was to ensure the emotional well-being of our people, since marriage was considered to be little more than an exclusive breeding contract. It was exceedingly rare for such arranged marriages to result in a satisfying, harmonious relationship, so my people turned elsewhere to fill that need. I find you completely satisfying in _every_ respect, Leo. I have no need or desire to turn to anyone but you.”

He sighed with relief, a light haze of tears misting his vision for a moment as he held her tightly. Several minutes later, he smiled at her, and asked, “So _now_ will you tell me what you’ve been up to? I’d very much like to know why my wife has been acting so strangely—slipping away to parts unknown with Dylas, acting so secretively, and then earlier when you simply cast escape without so much as a word.”

She looked down for a moment, then looked back up at him and said, “Please, Leo, will you wait just a _little_ longer? I promise I’ll tell you all about it, but it’s not time yet. Please… just trust me?”

Leon sighed and replied, “All right. But I want you to tell me before the sun sets, got it? I can’t take much more of this.”

She nodded, then leaned in to kiss him tenderly. “I promise, I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” she whispered, then kissed him again as he sighed deeply and lifted her up, returning her kisses with mounting desire as he carried her to their bed.

* * *

 

Leon slept a little later than usual, worn out from the night before. He would have likely slept later still, but sheer hunger finally woke him. He hadn’t gotten around to eating the shrimp Avani had cooked for him last night, and he was ravenous. Avani was already up, and he stretched languidly, smiling to himself as he remembered the conclusion to their discussion last night. Relations had become more challenging as her belly had so rapidly expanded, but they were no less enjoyable—for either of them, if he was any judge of such matters. As he lay there, he suddenly noticed a particularly tantalizing smell wafting from the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Avani appeared with a large tray. She placed it on the table in the sitting area, then came over and sat on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on her belly. Leon noted proudly the way her belly twitched as the new lives within kicked and squirmed so energetically. He hadn’t yet been able to feel it himself, though he could often see the movements. Every time he placed a hand on her belly, though, the activity had ceased. Today, however, when he tentatively reached out and rested his hand on her belly, he felt a succession of powerful movements under his hand. He jumped, startled, then looked at his wife with a grin of delight. She smiled at his expression of delirious joy and placed her hand over his. “Happy birthday, Leo, my love. And it seems our babies wish you a happy birthday, too. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such a frenzy of activity before!”

Leon reluctantly removed his hand and held her, kissing her hair as he murmured, “Thank you, My Lady. This is a truly wonderful gift you’ve given me, and I can’t wait to meet our little ones.”

Standing up, her eyes shining and her smile radiant, she held out a hand to him, saying, “That’s not the only thing I have for you—though naturally I couldn’t plan or foresee _that_ gift, so consider it a gift from them, not me. Come to breakfast, Leo.”

He rose, wrapping his robe around himself and tying the belt before joining her on the sofa. Looking at the food she’d prepared for him, he was startled to see an unexpected delicacy on his plate. “Grilled lamp squid!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “My favorite! How did you know I’d been hungering for it lately?” Not waiting for her answer, he lifted it up and took a small bite, savoring the rich flavor. “Mmmm,” he said as he savored it. “Perfection! Thank you, My Lady. What a marvelous birthday present.”

“I’m so very, very glad you like it, Leo. Now, you eat, and I’ll talk. Remember I promised I’d tell you all you wanted to know today.” Leon nodded as he took another small bite, turning to look at her as she spoke.

“First, you may have noticed that lamp squid has been increasingly hard to find lately?” Leon again nodded, this time with some chagrin. “Well, what you might not know,” she continued, “is that the recent scarcity is due to some fad in the capitol for lamp squid. They suddenly became very trendy, and since this region is known for its abundance of excellent lamp squid, fishermen flocked here in droves in search of them. As a result, they’ve become rather overfished and increasingly scarce. I hadn’t really realized how much of a problem this had become until I went to fish for one for your birthday. I first went out on the sixth, and I asked Dylas to come with me—I haven’t liked to go out alone lately, you know, in case something happens with the babies. But I obviously couldn’t ask you, and Dylas seemed like the next best choice because he’s so strong and capable. I had _no_ idea anyone would think something was going on between us!” She paused for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I fished all that day and into the night, but with no luck. So I planned to go out again the next day, and the day after if needed, and I promised Dylas that if he’d come with me until I caught a lamp squid that I’d make him lover sashimi, one dish of it for each day he accompanied me. I probably didn’t need to bribe him, but I didn’t want to take advantage of his affection for me. I thought that would be unfair and, well, dishonorable.”

Leon smiled to himself, remembering Forte’s comments in the bathhouse about Avani’s sense of honor, and said, “Fair enough. And now that I understand, I’m glad you took him along. But….” He hesitated, uncertain how to ask the questions that still remained.

“Yes?” Avani prompted.

“Well, I noticed… I noticed that first night, the night of the sixth, that you smelled rather strongly of Dylas. And of earth and grass. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but… I’m curious how you managed that particular combination of scents?”

She blushed, saying, “Ahh, well. That. You see, I’d been fishing at Keeno Lake, and I hooked a large fish—a taimen, it turned out—and I had a bit of a struggle reeling it in. Finally, I gave one massive jerk and brought it in—but it sent me sprawling flat on my back on the grass. It was awful at the time, but I guess I must have looked pretty funny—I couldn’t get up! I was stuck there on my back with this huge fish flopping on me and my huge belly, and I just could _not_ get up! I swear I’ve never seen Dylas laugh so hard. He was doubled over and gasping for air. Finally he stopped long enough to help me up, but by then I was feeling a little lightheaded and almost fell over again. So he picked me up and carried me over to a log, so I could sit down and rest.”

Leon frowned at the thought of Dylas laughing so hard at his wife’s predicament, then smiled at the mental image of her lying helplessly like that, fish and all, and decided that _he’d_ probably have laughed, too—so he was glad he _hadn’t_ been there, as he was sure he’d have gotten himself in trouble.

“Was there anything else you wanted to know?” Avani asked, anxiously.

“Well, I _am_ curious as to where you finally found the squid,” Leon admitted.

She laughed and replied, “Maya Road—that lake near the highest point of the pass. Apparently it’s too dangerous, or too cold, or too inhospitable in _some_ way or another, and doesn’t get fished anywhere near as much as other spots. It didn’t take all that long to catch one, once I had cleared out the area so that I could fish in peace. Dylas helped, of course, since I’m really not supposed to be doing a lot of fighting.”

“Maya Road,” Leon said thoughtfully. “I’ll have to remember that.” Then, pushing his empty plate away, Leon looked at his wife. “So let me be sure I understand this correctly. You decided you wanted to make my favorite food for my birthday, and you asked Dylas to keep an eye on you in case you needed help while you fished for the main ingredient, which has sadly become even more rare of late. This scarcity caused you to spend not one but _three_ whole days fishing, all the while hauling Dylas around with you and trying to avoid giving your plans away to anyone, especially to me. You even fished all through the night one night—which, by the way, I find rather upsetting, since you really _do_ need your sleep right now, My Lady. And Dylas presumably was looking so pleased with himself because first, he was getting to spend time fishing with you, and second, because you’d promised him one of his favorite foods for his assistance. Have I got the gist of it?”

Avani nodded, and Leon pulled her close and held her in a tight embrace. “Thank you, beloved. The lamp squid was delectable, and I appreciate it all the more because of the effort you put into preparing it for me.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Leo,” Avani replied, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “I was so focused on my goal that I didn’t stop to think how things might seem to you.”

He gave her a squeeze, then released her and stood. He held a hand out to her to pull her to her feet as he said with a smile, “Now let’s enjoy the rest of the day together. Are you too bored with fishing to go check out that mountain lake with me?”

Avani grinned and took his hand, then replied, “First one to catch a lamp squid wins!”

“Wins what?” Leon asked, curiously. She pulled his head down to her and whispered into his ear, and his cheeks turned bright red. “You’re on!” he exclaimed, dashing off to grab their poles.


	5. Encore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Anniversary! This is a little story I wrote to celebrate my first anniversary of writing fanfiction on February 14, 2015! In honor of the occasion, I wrote a one-shot for each of the two fics I completed during the year: Roses and Sonatas and The Winds of the Past. This is the latter, a nice family story featuring Leon & Avani. Rated T.

Though it was the middle of the night, the summer heat was still stifling. The last few days had reached some of the highest temperatures they’d ever experienced within memory. Yet despite that, he ran as fast as he could down the street, skidding to a stop before a door. He rang the bell, then, too impatient to wait, he pounded on the door knocker.

Upstairs, the occupants of the house had all finally fallen asleep, hampered by the suffocating temperatures. Usually they could count on a refreshing breeze to blow through the windows on hot nights, but tonight the air was still. It had taken much longer than usual before they had finally slipped into fitful slumber, one by one, and longer still before they passed through a protracted dream state and into deep sleep.

All but one, that is. The smallest member of the household, hearing the commotion at the door, leaned out the window to peer down at the street below. She recognized their late-night visitor, and, divining his purpose, hurried to roust the others out of their beds.

Fifteen minutes later, the castle was thrown into confused disarray.

Volkanon stood in the reception chamber, still in his nightshirt, ordering a dazed Vishnal and a semi-conscious Clorica this way and that. Dolce stood calmly to the side, holding a stack of linens while Pico darted about her, simultaneously anxious and excited. Nancy kept Avani moving, pacing through the large room, a constant stream of encouragement pouring from her lips. And Jones directed them all, like the conductor of an orchestra.

Meanwhile, Leon likewise paced. He strode anxiously to and fro just outside the front door, having been kicked out by Nancy upon her arrival. However, five minutes into wearing a path through the stone of the courtyard, he heard Avani pleading with Nancy, wanting him there at her side, and he burst through the door, rushing straight to her. He didn’t care _what_ Nancy said or thought—if his wife wanted him with her, he was damned well going to be there.

The actual birth was a blur to him—he was too focused on _her_ , too alarmed by the magnitude of Avani’s pain and exertion to be aware of anything else. That is, until Nancy put his firstborn into his arms—a black-haired, wrinkled, crimson little mite of a girl-child, squalling her fury and outrage as he grinned giddily down at her. He wasn’t even _close_ to finished with his inspection when Nancy took her from him and laid her on Avani’s chest, but as the vacancy was immediately filled by her twin brother, he had no complaint. A few minutes later, Nancy again took his tiny burden and placed him alongside his sister. He sat next to Avani, delirious with joy as he looked into her eyes—eyes that mirrored his happiness, except that hers was mingled with exhaustion and the pain of her long hours of labor.

Brushing aside the damp hair plastered to her forehead, he said, “I had no idea you were also an artist, My Lady. And a fine one, too, to have produced such masterpieces.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling in spite of her weariness. “You’re pleased with them, then?”

“They’re almost as beautiful and perfect as their mother,” he replied, leaning over to kiss her. “ _Almost_.”

* * *

 

When the subject of names arose, Avani glanced up at him, oddly shy as he looked down at her expectantly. “You remember I had mentioned wanting to name them in honor of Venti?” she asked in a low voice, not wanting to wake the sleeping newborns.

“Yes, I do. What, then, do you propose?” he replied, smiling—something he seemed to do more often than usual these days.

With a far-away look in her eyes, she said, slowly, “That last day with her, when she flew me home after defeating Ethelberd, she said something to me. She said… she said that she had been right about me—that I’d rescued all you Guardians, defeated Ethelberd, and saved her. Then she said that when we first met, she’d seen a small light shining within me—a ray of hope. So….” She paused, tears gathering in her eyes as she remembered her cherished friend.

“Yes, beloved?” he encouraged her after a moment.

“So I was thinking we could name our daughter Hope, and our son Ray. Is… is that silly?” she asked, looking at him again with uncertainty in her eyes, a faint blush on her pale cheeks.

“Hope and Ray,” he mused, rubbing his chin as he considered them—the sound of them in his ears, the way they rolled around his tongue. Then he smiled down at her. “I was right, too.”

“About what?” she said, her eyes widening.

“To entrust their naming to you. As I expected, you chose perfect names for our perfect babies.” Then he kissed her forehead as she closed her eyes, a contented smile on her lips. A moment later, she was asleep, and he slipped away to stand guard—holding well-wishers and do-gooders at bay while she and their babies slept.

* * *

 

“All I ever do anymore is eat and sleep, eat and sleep,” Avani complained with a sigh.

“Not true,” Dolce said, handing a freshly-bathed, happily gurgling baby Ray to her. “You’re busy storing up enough energy to feed not one but two growing human beings. That requires a lot of food and rest, naturally. Soon enough you’ll be done—and no doubt you’ll miss it when that happens. So try to enjoy this time with them while you can.”

Shifting to accommodate her son at one breast without disturbing her daughter at the other, she sighed again. “I know, I know. Leo says the same thing. But… well, sometimes I want to just get out of the house for a while. Just be by myself, for a change. Don’t get me wrong, I _really_ appreciate all that you and Clorica do to help me,” she added hastily, lest her visitor take offence—which she didn’t.

Looking thoughtfully out the window, Dolce said, “You know, the weather isn’t bad today. It would be good for you to get some fresh air while you can—it’s almost winter. What did Jones say when he examined you yesterday?”

“Oh, the usual—I’m in perfect health, the babies are in perfect health, everything is just perfect, perfect, _perfect_ ,” Avani replied, somewhat acerbically. “But it doesn’t _feel_ perfect. I feel… I feel dull. Drab. Lifeless. I’m… I’m just so bored I could scream!” she exclaimed. “He said it’s too chilly to take them outside much, since they’re still so little and it’s getting close to winter. But oh, how I want to just get away for a little while!”

“Well…” Dolce mused, “it wouldn’t hurt for Leo to spend a little more time with them, especially on his own. In fact, it would probably be very good for all of you. Why don’t you ask him to watch them for an hour or two and get out of the house? Go for a walk, go fishing, visit a friend, whatever. Just do something that has nothing at all to do with babies.”

So it came to pass, later in the day, that Avani went out by herself for the first time since the babies had arrived. Leo had happily, albeit a little nervously, agreed to watch the drowsy twins. Walking along the street, she decided that, more than anything, she wanted a long, _long_ soak in a scalding hot, fragrant bath. She hadn’t enjoyed that particular luxury since she first learned she was pregnant—most of a year ago—and she missed it terribly.

Lin and Xiao had been delighted to see her, and they had pampered and petted her, spoiling her like a little princess—hurrying to add rose petals to the bathing pool, bringing her tea and cakes and other delightful tidbits, rubbing her aching, tired shoulders, scrubbing her back and washing her hair for her, afterwards gently brushing the cascading green waves that fell to her knees.

Feeling refreshed and renewed, Avani returned home, stopping at Porcoline’s on the way. She ordered some food to go—already hungry again, despite the snacks at the baths—and she chatted happily with Dylas while she waited for her order. Then she returned home by way of Melody Street, stopping in at Carnation’s to pick up some fresh flowers.

She arrived back at their suite a little later than she’d intended, but she felt only a _tiny_ bit guilty. The twins had awakened by that time, and Leon didn’t hear her open the door as he walked the fussing infants, holding one over each shoulder and talking to them in the most adorable voice she’d ever heard from him.

“I can’t _believe_ Mommy asked me to babysit you all by myself!” he was cooing, his back to the door as he slowly strolled towards the back of the chamber. “Can you, Ray? What about you, Hope? Ahh, aren’t you two just sooo _cute_?” He hoisted Hope up slightly, as she’d begun to slip a little, then he continued. “I miss Mommy, don’t you? Uh-huh, I _thought_ so! Daddy loves Mommy _sooo_ much! Does Hope love Mommy? Does Ray love Mommy? That’s right, we _all_ love Mommy!”

Just then he reached the back of the room and turned around, and he saw Avani standing there, her back against the door, grinning like a maniac at him. He felt his cheeks redden as she strolled across the room towards him. “I don’t recall ever hearing you talk like _that_ before, Leo.”

“Ahh, my image! My _beautiful_ image!” he lamented in mock dismay, his eyes full of laughter.

Avani laughed as she reached for one of the twins. “…is _totally_ ruined! I’ll never forget a single word you said!” With a wicked gleam in her eye, she grinned at him as she hoisted Hope up on her shoulder.

“Well, at least my reputation died for a worthy cause,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “You look good enough to eat.”

* * *

 

“Guess what?” Leon said, grinning broadly as he quickly shut the door to keep the icy wind out, stomping his boots to knock off the snow.

“What?”Avani said, unable to rise from her seat on the sofa before the roaring fire to greet him, since she was encumbered by two hungry babies.

“Dylas offered— _offered_ , mind you, not merely agreed—to watch the twins tomorrow night so that we could go out for a little while for the Christmas festival!”

“What? _Dylas_ did? Why?” she replied, astonished.

Leon shrugged as he pulled off his boots and unwound his scarf. “He said he didn’t have anyone to go with anyway, and it was stupid to go by yourself to a couple’s festival. I didn’t question him too closely. He was beginning to turn red and was looking both angry and embarrassed—you know how he gets—and I didn’t want him to change his mind.”

“That… that’s so _sweet_ of him!” Avani exclaimed, smiling happily at her husband as he sat next to her, taking Hope and patting her back while Ray finished his meal.

“Yes, it is. But somehow I don’t imagine he’d appreciate it if we told him so.”

“No… I think you’re right. I’ll leave him a big platter of sashimi as thanks, instead. He’ll like that better, anyway!” she laughed.

Leon laughed, too. “No doubt he would.”

The next night, a few minutes after 6:00, Dylas arrived at their back door. Leon let him in, holding Ray in one arm, and he quickly got out of his outerwear and boots so he could take a seat by the fire. Avani was walking with Hope, patting her tiny back and bouncing her gently. She smiled gratefully at him, and said, “I can’t thank you enough for this, Dylas. I left some fresh sashimi in the refrigerator for you—help yourself.

“The babies have just finished eating, and they should fall asleep very soon. We’ll put them to bed before we go. If you have any problems or need help, you’ll have to go get Granny Blossom. She did say she was planning to stay in tonight, though—said the cold was getting to be too much for her old bones—and to let you know to call on her if you need anything. The diaper things are in that drawer over there. We’ll only be gone a couple of hours, I should think.”

Dylas looked slightly panicked, but just nodded and grunted an acknowledgement. He’d brought a couple of books to peruse with him, to pass the time—one about fishing, the other a new cookbook Porcoline had loaned him—and he set these on the table before him.

Avani walked over and passed Hope to him. “Say ‘hi’ to Uncle Dylas!” she cooed, as the baby looked up at him with her large green eyes. She stared at him for a full minute, maybe more, then her eyes crinkled up and she beamed at him, kicking her chubby legs and squealing excitedly as she grabbed a lock of his blue hair in her plump fingers. Dylas winced as she yanked it, and Avani scolded her and picked her up again, prying his hair free from her grasp.

“Well, she’s certainly got your strength,” Dylas remarked drily, but his eyes followed the infant with a tender expression, and his smile was genuine.

Leon and Avani put the babies in their crib in the nursery, apologizing to Dylas for their forlorn wailing as they watched their parents close the door partway behind them. Then they donned their boots and coats and hurried out the door, almost giddy with their temporary taste of freedom.

Atop the observation tower, Leon pulled Avani close to him, wrapping his arms around her to keep her warm as he nuzzled his chin against her head. “Do you remember that time I dragged you up here to watch the sunrise?” he asked in a low voice as they both looked up at the stars twinkling brightly in the darkening sky.

“You mean when I said that it made me feel lonely, and you said you felt the same way?” she murmured in reply.

“Yes,” he replied, giving her a squeeze.

“Do you still feel lonely?” she asked him a moment later, more curious than worried.

He paused, considering her question. “No, I don’t—not now, anyway. Then, I was still overwhelmed with the sense of all that I’d lost. But now… now I’ve gained far more then I ever lost, and I’m no longer lonely. Are you?”

She shook her head. “Even if I _hadn’t_ regained my memory, I still wouldn’t feel lonely now, for the same reasons as you. We may have felt like outsiders at the time, but since then, we’ve carved our own little niche out of this time and place—we _belong_ here now.”

Leon smiled into her hair, then he spotted a particularly bright star just above the trees. “Look, My Lady, over there to the south—see that bright star? That looks like a fine star to wish upon, don’t you agree?”

Avani looked for a moment, then nodded. “All right. Wish away, Leo!”

After a short silence, he asked, “Well? What did you wish for?”

She hesitated, then snuggling into his arms a little, she said, “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to keep it to myself for now—after all, supposedly if you tell a wish, it won’t come true. And I’d like this one to come true.”

He chuckled, then replied, “All right. I don’t _really_ believe that—but if you’re not telling, then neither am I. We’ll just wait and see what happens!”

Afterwards, they strolled slowly through the town to Dragon Lake. It was frozen over, and hardly anyone visited it during the winter except to go ice fishing or to buy scrolls from the mage that had moved into a small cabin on its shores. They were alone there, and they found it an ideal—if chilly—spot for a moonlit kiss or three.

When they returned home, they discovered Dylas sprawled across their bed, sound asleep, a sleeping baby cradled in each arm. Avani nearly squealed in delight at the charming sight, but she calmed herself and gently removed Ray from his embrace while Leon, grinning at her all the while, disentangled Hope. They put the babies back in their crib, then returned to find Dylas just opening his eyes, groggy and dazed. They helped him get into his boots and coat, then Leon walked him home to be sure he made it to his room safely in his drowsy condition. Afterwards, they spent a very enjoyable time recalling past romantic interludes, finally falling asleep in a tangled heap a few hours later, exhausted but blissfully happy.

* * *

 

Avani put the finishing touches on the rich, dark, chocolate cake she’d baked for the cooking competition that day, then stood back to admire her handiwork. She gagged a little at the cloying fragrance of the chocolate, and felt grateful that she wasn’t a judge. Sated from the scents of cooking that filled the kitchen, she made a cup of tea and hurried out to sip it in the garden. The contest began in an hour, so she had plenty of time for a cup or two.

When the time came, she placed her cake on a pretty stand and carefully took it over to the tables where the entries were collected. She registered hers with Volkanon—last of all the entrants, arriving right before the deadline. She’d dozed off while sitting in the shade of an apple tree to sip her tea, and had startled awake just in the nick of time.

She hadn’t even really felt much like competing, frankly. But one of her resolutions for the year was to get back into participating in the festivals. She had at least gone to them—when she was physically able, anyway—but she knew that everyone, both villagers and tourists alike, was thrilled when she actually _participated_ , not merely attended. So she was determined to make the effort to be more involved again. After all, the twins were a little over half a year old, and although she wouldn’t say she was _well_ -rested, she was at least sleeping much more regularly, and for longer periods of time. This morning, though, she felt tired and run down despite a fairly decent night’s sleep.

Watching as Volkanon carefully examined each entry, judging for taste, fragrance, and presentation, she suddenly caught a whiff of her chocolate cake—or perhaps one of the many other chocolate entries—and felt nausea at the intense sweetness flood over her again. She fought it back, not wanting to disrupt the competition, nor to make a fuss over nothing.

Pico saw her, though, and whispered to Dolce that something was wrong. Dolce quickly looked at her, and noting her wan appearance, nudged Jones. He glanced over at Avani and raised his eyebrows, then looked at Dolce and nodded. He slipped away, unnoticed by the crowd, and made his way to the clinic. Meanwhile, Dolce sidled quietly up to Avani. She leaned over and whispered, inaudible to anyone else, for her to follow her. Avani just nodded her head weakly, and Dolce guided her out of the crowd, undetected, with the adroit manipulation and legerdemain that only a puppetmaster such as herself could command.

Leon had left the competition early; the twins were restless and fussy, and since they hadn’t been eating quite as well as usual for the past few days, he and Avani were concerned they might be coming down with something. So he knew nothing of her early departure from the festival until Clorica came looking for her. She had won the competition, apparently, but no one had been able to find her to award her the prizes.

Thoroughly alarmed, he asked Clorica to watch the babies and bolted out the door. He searched high and low for her, finding no sign of her anywhere in town. He was almost blind with panic when he ran full tilt into Dolce, knocking them both to the ground. He jumped up and helped her up, then with a distracted apology, he started to dash off again. Dolce grabbed him by the arm, though, and tugged him in the direction of the clinic. “Hold it, Leon,” she said, a little sharply. “I was just looking for you.”

“Sorry. Can’t stop,” he gasped, out of breath from running all over the town. “Avani’s missing. I… I have to find her.”

“No, you dolt. She’s not _missing_. She’s at the clinic. That’s why I was searching for you.”

He turned pale as he stared at her, still panting. “The _clinic_? Is she hurt? Is it bad?”

Dolce rolled her eyes as she pulled him along the street. “I’m not a doctor _yet_ , you know, let alone _her_ doctor. You’ll have to talk to Jones. Just come with me, will you?”

They reached the clinic a few minutes later, and she propelled him through the door ahead of her. He found Nancy waiting there, and she led him back to one of the exam rooms, where he found Avani curled up in a chair, looking pale and sick. He hurried to her side, sitting down in the chair next to her, just in time to grab a basin to hold for her as she brought up the last remnants of her tea. Nancy took the basin from him, and he looked at Jones, his brow furrowed in concern.

But the doctor and his wife merely smiled at him, and Jones said, “Well, Leon, to bring you up to date, it would appear that you’ve gone and done it again.”

He stared at them, blinking, feeling completely at a loss. “I… what? What did I do?”

“Well, _both_ of you—not just you alone. Congratulations! Avani’s pregnant again!”

His mouth fell open and he stared, speechless. Then he turned to Avani, who was beginning to look a little less peaked. “My… My Lady?”

“Leo? Are you… do you mind _very_ much?” she asked in a small voice, suddenly looking worried.

“Mind? _Mind_? I… I’m over the moon! But what about you, my love—how do _you_ feel about it? You’re the one who suffers.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, smiling, and said, “I couldn’t be happier, Leo. Don’t you remember? I said I wanted _millions_ of babies with you!”

Leo laughed then, and squeezed her hard. “Well, then. Once again I’ll leave the naming to you—you did such a fine job the first time around. Do you have any idea if we’re having a boy or a girl this time?”

“A girl—I’m _certain_ it’s a girl,” she replied with a joyful laugh.

“And she’ll be just as amazing as her parents and siblings, of that _I’m_ certain,” he pronounced smugly.

As they strolled hand in hand back home in the balmy spring evening, she suddenly stopped and looked up at him. “Leo… about my Christmas wish on the star…”

“Yes, My Lady? What about it?” he asked, pulling her a little nearer to him.

“I… I wished for… for an encore,” she admitted in a low voice, blushing deeply.

He chuckled and pulled her close, enfolding her in a tight embrace. Whispering into her hair, he said, “And so did I, beloved. So did I.”


	6. In the Mind's Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short story focusing on Rishi, Avani's twin brother, set about a season after the birth of Avani and Leon's twins.

“My Lord Rishi,” began the young soldier, bowing deeply before the Prince of the Ventuani. “Prince Arthur requests your presence in Selphia at your earliest convenience. He has news that he believes will be of interest to you.” He turned to the fair-haired lady who stood behind him and bowed to her as well. “He likewise requests your presence, My Lady Sharmila, if you are able.”

She smiled at him, massaging her rotund belly. “Well, as our little man isn’t due to arrive for a little time yet, I think I should be able to accompany My Lord. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to see the twins again.”

Rishi’s expression was wistful as he replied, “Yes, it _would_ be nice to see them…. All right, Sergeant…?”

“Hugo, sir.”

“Then, Sergeant Hugo, will you wait and travel with us, or return immediately?”

“My orders are to return at once and inform the Prince of your reply, My Lord.”

“Good. Then please tell Arthur that we will arrive as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.” And with that, the soldier again bowed, then turned and departed quickly.

“I wonder what Arthur wants?” Rishi mused as he sat for a moment, drumming his fingers on the table top before him. “I doubt that he would request your presence, too, if it concerned politics or business. But if it’s a purely social visit, surely he would have simply come here himself, not sent a guard to ask us to come to him.”

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough, beloved,” she replied, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as she smiled down at him.

“True,” he replied, taking her hand and kissing it before he rose with a sigh. He stepped cautiously, but his servants were meticulous in insuring everything stayed in its place in his rooms, so that he might walk through the large house unassisted. Pausing in the hall, he called for the head servant, who hurried down the hall a moment later.

“Yes, My Lord?” she asked, bowing before him.

“My Lady and I will be leaving shortly for Selphia. I do not know how long we will be away at this time. Please inform any visitors or petitioners accordingly, and see to things in our absence. Oh, and will you please summon Jagathi immediately? We will be in our quarters, preparing for departure.”

“Yes, My Lord. You may place your faith in me,” she replied, turning and bustling back down the hall.

“Thank you, Usha. I know I may,” he said with a smile, speaking more to himself than to her as she disappeared around a corner.

* * *

 

After placing a deputy in charge in his absence, Rishi and Sharmila teleported to the airship dock in Selphia. Together they strolled down the street to Arthur’s offices, breathing in the crisp fall air of the northern town. Inside his rooms within Porcoline’s manor house, they found Arthur sitting to tea with Avani, Leon, Jones, and a strange woman. Arthur rose when they entered the room, and greeted them with a smile.

“Ahh, Rishi, Sharmila—I’m very glad you could come, especially on such short notice. I’ve asked Avani and Leon to join us, as well Dr. Jones and a colleague of his. Please, be seated,” he said as he gently guided the blind prince to the table. He offered them tea and cakes, and once they were settled comfortably, he turned to the physician. “Jones? Will you explain the purpose of this meeting, please?”

“Oh, certainly,” he replied, clearing his throat. “I admit that I was greatly intrigued by your case, Prince Rishi, meaning both your blindness and your shared sight with Avani, that is. So when I attended an international conference of physicians and healers in the capitol last month, I made some discreet enquiries. Everyone I spoke with, to a man, suggested I speak with Ms. Shelby, a renowned ocular specialist from the Republic of Eucraft. Fortunately, she was also in attendance, so I sought her out and told her about you. As a result of our conversation, she agreed to come and see you for herself—if you are willing, that is.”

The stranger then spoke, her voice low and deep and soothing. “Prince Rishi and Lady Sharmila? I am Ursula Shelby, but please just call me Ursula. Jones explained your case to me, but I am afraid I must confess that I am not altogether convinced. He said that you were born all but blind, but that instead of external vision, you were born with a gift of internal sight that, for whatever reason, only allows you to see through the eyes of your twin sister. Is this correct?”

“Yes, that is correct. It is a very rare trait among our people, often vanishing for centuries before reappearing once more. When it does appear, it only appears in multiple births, and most often only in one sibling, though I did find a record from long, long ago of a triple birth where two of the three were affected.”

“I see. And you are completely blind?”

“No, not completely. I can see vague, blurry shapes of color with my own eyes, though I can see quite clearly when I see through Avani’s eyes—as well as she herself can see, I imagine. However, I cannot see well enough to walk unassisted through unfamiliar terrain, for example, let alone to read a book or write a letter.”

“Please describe what you see before you right now, with your own eyes, Your Highness.”

“Please, call me Rishi. I can see blobs of white and brown and blue and green nearby, and behind those, larger blobs of brown and white, and a smaller blob of blue.”

“All right,” she said, making some notes in a small notebook. “Next I would like you to describe a scene that you see through your sister’s eyes. To test this, I will select a book from Prince Arthur’s shelves and hand it to your sister, who will then open it to a plate and look at it. You will then describe what she sees to me.”

Rishi nodded understanding, and Avani and Ursula both rose and walked to the back of the office. Ursula pulled a book at random off a shelf, flipped through until she found a drawing of a grand clipper ship with the caption “The H.M.S. Sea Queen: the sailing vessel of the Noradian Royal Family, the House of Lawrence, launched in the fourth year of the reign of King Gilbert.”

“All right, Avani, please look at this image. Rishi, please tell me what she sees. Describe it as clearly as you can, including any text you can read.”

“I see a pen and ink drawing of a sailing vessel,” Rishi began, speaking slowly at first. “It has many sails on it, though I do not know ships well enough to tell you what kind it is. It appears to be quite large, though. I count one… two… three…” he paused for a moment, though his lips moved very slightly. He let out a low whistle a moment later. “Thirty-five. I count thirty-five sails on that ship. As I said, I do not know ships well, but it seems to me to be quite a large, beautifully crafted vessel. There is a caption below that reads ‘The H.M.S. Sea Queen: the sailing vessel of the Noradian Royal Family, the House of Lawrence, launched in the fourth year of the reign of King Gilbert.’ There is more text on the page, but as Avani is not focusing on it, I cannot read it.”

Ursula grunted as if deep in thought, then she pulled the book from Avani’s hand and glanced over the image again before closing the book. She replaced it on the shelf and carefully selected another volume. Again she opened it and placed it into Avani’s hands. “Once again, if you please.”

“The book is open to a page of color plates—four of them. The top left plate depicts leopards and tigers, male, female, and young of the normal coloration of each, as well as a black leopard, a white tiger, and a golden tiger. The top right plate depicts wolves, jackals, foxes and wild dogs—do you want me to name each species shown? All right, then the lower left plate depicts an assortment of mongooses, civets, and martens, and the lower right plate shows wild boars—different genders, ages, and colorations.”

“Hmmm. Very interesting, Rishi. One more test, if you will please humor me? I will write a note and ask your sister to take it upstairs to open and read it, then I will ask you to read it using her vision.” She opened her little notebook and scribbled something on a page. Then she tore the page out, folded it into thirds and then halves, and handed it to Avani. Avani nodded, then she turned and ran lightly up the stairs to the second floor. Ursula turned to Rishi and said, “Whenever you are ready, Rishi.”

Rishi sat for a moment, his brow drawn in concentration. Then he smiled, and said, “She’s just unfolded it now. Your note seems to be a quote: ‘Smooth seas do not make skillful marinars.’ Although, if you will pardon my mentioning it, you misspelled ‘mariners’—that should be an ‘e’, not an ‘a’.”

Ursula smiled a slow, broad smile and raised her hands. “Well, Rishi, I have no choice but to believe you. You even picked up on the spelling error—deliberate, of course. Now all that remains is for me to perform a physical examination, and then consider what may be done to cure your blindness.” Then she walked to the staircase and called Avani back down.

“Cure… did you say _cure_ my blindness?” Rishi said, his mouth dropping open in shock.

Sharmila sprang to her feet. “Cure… cure him? Doctor, I mean, Ursula, do you mean it? You can heal him?”

Turning to Sharmila with a solemn look, she replied, “I am not, in fact, a doctor. I am a scientist and an engineer with a particular interest in visual impairments. The eye is, to me, a mechanical marvel. As a result of my research, I have achieved many successes with my methods.

“As to your question… I cannot say for certain just yet. I will need to perform an examination, and an exploratory operation will very likely be necessary before I can propose a plan of action. If you wish me to proceed, I will gladly do so, for I must say your case intrigues me. Never have I come across the exact symptoms you exhibit.

“I will need an assistant for the exploratory surgery as well as any subsequent operations. Would your personal physician be willing?” she asked, looking at both Rishi and Sharmila inquiringly.

“I would be delighted to assist Ms. Shelby, if you and your own physician do not object,” Jones spoke up, looking eager.

“We do not employ physicians. We have healers, and the priestesses also have some more advanced spells. We do use some basic herbs and potions, but we primarily utilize magic,” Rishi replied, dazedly.

“Then I will accept Jones’ offer of assistance, if that meets with your approval,” Ursula said with a satisfied nod. “If you are free this afternoon, I would like to proceed with the initial examination immediately, as well as to set a time for the exploratory surgery.”

Sharmila stared, unblinkingly, at the specialist for several long moments, then turned and looked at Avani where she stood frozen and wide-eyed on the last step but one.

* * *

 

“But Rishi, my love, it’s the chance of a lifetime!” Avani exclaimed as she took Hope from Sharmila to lay her down for her nap with Ray. “You can’t possibly pass this up! How could you even think otherwise?”

Rishi sat, eyes closed, and did not reply immediately. At last, with a sigh, he said, “Try to imagine it from my perspective. All my life I have had no vision to speak of, as if I’ve been trapped in a mist since birth. All I’ve ever had was my link to you and your vision. It brought us so much closer together than if I hadn’t been so… so utterly dependent on you, my love. There were so many times in my youth when I felt that I had nothing worthwhile except you and that link between us.”

Avani nodded in understanding as she sat on the arm of the chair where Leon sat listening thoughtfully. Looking shrewdly at his wife’s twin, he said, “And you fear that this surgery will rob you of that, is that it?”

Rishi turned towards them. “Yes. I fear that more than I fear blindness, which at least is familiar to me. And most of all, I fear that the surgery will not merely rob me of that link—that precious link, which has meant so much to me all these years—but that it will fail to cure me, too, leaving me more truly blind than ever before. _That_ is what I fear most.”

Avani looked at Leon, her eyes troubled and uncertain. Sharmila glanced at them, then laid one hand on her belly and the other on her husband’s arm. “Beloved, won’t you at least consent to the examination? Perhaps she may be able to help you without surgery; perhaps she may not be able to help you at all. Either way, isn’t it best to gather as much information as you can before you reach a decision?”

Rishi paused, considering, then nodded his head. “Yes. You’re right, love. I will follow your advice, and afterwards I will make my decision.”

* * *

 

“Your vision is severely myopic,” Ursula said as she took a seat next to Rishi’s bed in the clinic. Sharmila sat in a chair on the other side of his bed, and Avani and Jones stood at the end, watching and listening.

“Myopic?” Rishi asked.

“Yes—short-sighted. You see at ten paces what a person with normal vision can see at approximately _two hundred_ paces.”

“Oh,” he replied, sinking back on his pillows.

Sharmila looked down at him as she gave his hand a squeeze, then looked at Ursula. “Can you do anything?”

“Well, normally myopia is due to either a defect in the cornea, the transparent cover over the eye’s lens, or else to an elongation of the eye itself, resulting in imperfect focus.

“However, I’ve examined his eyes, and I believe that the failure isn’t due to either of these. I believe instead that the fault is neural. I can’t even begin to guess what the mechanism is, though if there is a history among your people—however rare—of such defects, then it may be hereditary in nature.”

Instinctively placing a hand protectively over her rounded belly, Sharmila stared at her for a moment. “Then… is there nothing that can be done after all?”

Ursula smiled at her. “I didn’t say that. The nerves are there and at least partially functional, or he wouldn’t see at all. But I believe that they have atrophied, or more accurately, they never properly developed in the first place. Something interrupted that stage of his development, promoting this alter-vision instead.

“While I have not had occasion to do so myself, many of my colleagues have had good success in treating nerve impairments with electrical stimuli. I propose that you permit me to attempt to reawaken the dysfunctional nerves in this manner.”

“Electrical stimuli? What do you mean? You mean… you want to shock his brain? Like with lightning?” Avani asked, chewing on her lip and looking worriedly at her brother.

“Yes, in a manner of speaking. But the electricity used for such treatments is nowhere near as powerful an energy as your wild magics. It _may_ be uncomfortable; it should _not_ be painful.”

“Will it sever this bond I have with my sister, if I allow you to attempt to heal my sight?” Rishi spoke at last, and though his voice was calm, his sister and his wife both felt the underlying tension in his question.

Ursula considered for a moment. “That I cannot say, as I have never before had a patient with this particular… condition. If it is independent of your physical sight, then it may persist even once your vision has been healed. But if not….”

Rishi nodded slowly, wincing a little from the residual discomfort of his recent examination. “I see. I would like some time to think it over, to discuss it with my wife and my sister, before I make my mind up.”

She nodded her head. “Of course. It’s not a decision to be made lightly. And I cannot guarantee that your vision will be restored to you. Though I’ve had good results with other treatments and others have had good results with neural stimulation, your case _is_ rather unique.”

“I understand. Thank you, Ursula. Will you be in town much longer?”

“I will be in Norad for another week at least—there are some people in the capitol I wish to meet while I am here, since it is not often I travel this far. Should you choose to try to restore your sight, I will want to treat you there, at the Royal Hospital. I will have better access to the equipment I need there than in a small town like this.”

“Very well. I will let you know my decision before the week is over.”

* * *

 

From his seat in one of the chairs by the crackling fire, the twins snuggled up to him as they gazed at each other in drowsy wonder, Leon looked from Avani to Rishi to Sharmila and back to Avani. “Well?” he asked as Sharmila and Rishi sat on the small sofa. “What did she say? Can she do anything for you?”

Rishi sighed and rubbed his head. “She… she thinks there is a good chance she can successfully restore my vision.”

“That’s wonderful! Isn’t it?” Leon exclaimed, then hesitated as he saw the uncertainty lingering on his brother-in-law’s face.

Rishi sighed and buried his head in his hands. “I… I’m not sure. She can’t guarantee a cure, naturally, but she also doesn’t have any idea what, if any, effect her treatment might have on my link with Avani.”

“I see,” Leon mused, turning to meet Avani’s worried gaze.

Sharmila watched Avani and Rishi for a moment, and seeing the concern of the former and the mute misery of the latter, she rose. “My love, I had best return home and make arrangements for a more extended stay for us here in Selphia. Then you can take as long as you want to think it over, here where you can discuss your concerns with Avani. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.” She bent and kissed his forehead, then hurried out the door, sending one last meaningful glance to her sister-in-law as she paused in the doorway. Then she was gone.

Avani sat next to her twin and put her arm around his shoulders. “Why don’t we take a little walk? I find I think more clearly when I’m out in the fresh air. We can go down to Dragon Lake, if you like, or even to the waterfall in Yokmir Forest. There are only a few monsters along the way to the falls, nothing I couldn’t dispatch in my sleep,” she said with a smile.

“I’ll stay here with the babies, My Lady, so take your time,” Leon asked, cradling their little ones snugly as he nodded reassuringly to her.

Rishi nodded and rose, silently allowing Avani to lead him where she would, just as she had done for most of his life.

* * *

 

Once she had determined that no more orcs lurked in the shadows, Avani carefully wiped her dual blades before sheathing them, then led Rishi to a log near the waterfall where he could sit and listen to the roar of the falls and smell the fragrant, earthy, green scents of the woods around them. If he borrowed her vision, he could even see clearly the sun-dappled leaves and mossy stumps and the mushrooms and strange flowers that dotted the shaded grass. He began to do so, then exclaimed sharply. Turning to look at him, alarmed by his cry, Avani saw a tear on his cheek.

“Rishi, my love, what is it?” she said, dropping beside him and holding his hands in hers.

Taking a ragged breath, he said in a low voice, “I’ve become so accustomed to seeing things through your eyes, to living my life through you. Those years that passed while I had sealed your memory away, when I only rarely borrowed your sight to be sure you were well… those were some of the bleakest years of my life. I felt so… cut off, so isolated in my blindness.”

He looked up at her, trying to make out her face from the blur of shadow and color before him. “Avani, my sister, I don’t know… I can’t bear the thought of living out my life like that, of losing so much. It’s such a risk, and for what? I’ve never needed my sight before, do I really need it so badly now?”

Avani crouched next to him for a moment, deep in thought. Then she gave his hands a squeeze and rose. Turning towards the river flowing past them, she stooped, picked up a few stones, and threw them as hard as she could, one after the other, into the river, watching them as they splashed and sank from view. Finally she said slowly, still looking into the waters, “I can’t tell you what you should and should not do, Rishi. This is a decision that you and you alone must make.” Then she turned to face him, and though he couldn’t see the mixture of pride and pain on her face, he could hear it in her voice as she continued. “But you are a Prince and the leader of our people. We must face the future bravely, my love, and act with courage. There is risk, yes, but there is also a great deal of hope. If we always let our fears control us, what would become of us?”

Once more kneeling before him and grasping his hands in hers, she said, “You asked if you really needed your vision, when you’ve always had mine at your disposal. But is that how you really would choose to live your life, always depending on me to see for you? What if something happened to me, then what? And besides, given a choice between dependence and independence, wouldn’t independence be a better choice every time? The ability to do a thing for yourself, to not require the help of others… isn’t that the best thing? Until now, you’ve had no choice. But now you do. Don’t choose out of fear, my love.”

Once more rising and turning to watch the flow of the river, she said softly, “Think of all the things you might see that I cannot see for you—Sharmila’s face next to yours in the early morning light, your child’s first steps, little moments such as those that can’t be seen for you. And other sights that you deserve to see yourself, and that deserve to be seen by you—your newborn child’s face and tiny hands and feet, for instance. Isn’t that alone worth the risk?

“You might lose your connection with me, but my love, there’s no guarantee that you wouldn’t lose it eventually anyway. Life is uncertain—every day, everything we do has some element of risk. So isn’t it better to take a worthwhile risk than to wait until fate decides to throw the dice on your behalf?”

Rishi sat, staring at the darkening blurs before him. After a little while, he suddenly stood, saying, “I’m tired. Please take me back now. Sharmila should be back soon, if she isn’t already.”

* * *

 

“You’re quite certain of your decision?” Sharmila asked, pausing with the seal hovering over the slowly hardening wax on the letter before her.

“Quite certain,” Rishi replied quietly, and she sighed and pressed the seal into the wax firmly, then called for a servant to deliver the letter with all haste.

* * *

 

“How is he?” Avani asked Sharmila in a whisper. The priestess placed a finger across her lips, then led Avani out the door.

In a low voice, she replied, “We don’t know for sure. He hasn’t yet woken. Ursula _thinks_ it went well, but there’s no way to tell for sure. And this was only the first round—she wants to do another tomorrow, then allow him some time to heal before he attempts to see. Did Leon come with you?”

Avani shook her head. “The twins really aren’t old enough for such a trip yet, so he offered to stay behind with them so that I could be here. Of course, he wants us to send word the second we know anything.”

Sharmila sighed, looking back at the heavy door before them. “I wish….” Then she turned pale and gasped, clutching Avani’s shoulder tightly as she wavered.

“Sharmila?” Avani exclaimed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

As if emerging from the woodwork, suddenly several nurses gathered around them, and before Avani could get a reply, Sharmila was whisked away, and she was left standing there in the now-empty hall, alone and bewildered.

* * *

 

“Sharmila?” Rishi mumbled, his voice raspy. He reached up and felt gingerly at the bandages that covered his eyes.

“Shhh, I’m here,” Avani replied, gently taking his hand and guiding it away from his face.

“Avani? Where’s Sharmila?” he croaked, attempting to sit up. He was still too groggy, though, and soon gave up, falling tiredly back against his pillows.

“She… she couldn’t be here right now. So I’m here instead.”

“What is it? Is something wrong?” He again tried to sit up, then stopped, half-risen, and after a moment he moaned and fell back again. “It’s gone!” he said with a sob.

“Shh, no, don’t cry, Rishi! You need to rest your eyes. What is it? What’s gone?” she exclaimed, rising and putting her arms around him to soothe him.

“I can’t… I can’t see through you. It’s gone—the link is broken!” he whispered, and Avani held him as she prayed to Ventu with all her might.

* * *

 

“Well, Rishi. Are you ready for the moment of truth?” Ursula said, taking a seat next to his bed across from where Avani sat anxiously watching.

He hesitated just an instant, then nodded. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Then just one moment while we prepare. Avani, would you please pull those shades down? Thank you. Now come with me for just a moment, will you?”

Rishi heard their footsteps leaving, then the door closed. A murmur of voices reached his sensitive ears, but they were too muffled to make out the words. Then a half-smothered cry, and quick footsteps departing. Soon slower footsteps approached, softly shuffling as if in felted slippers instead of the boots she had worn before. And a strange smell….

Before he could think about it any further, cool hands touched his cheek, just below the bandages, then cold metal slipped underneath. The sound of fabric being cut, and a gentle pulling sensation. Then the bandages were lifted from his face, and a hand was quickly placed over his eyes before he had a chance to open them.

“Keep in mind that if your treatment was successful and your sight restored, you will likely find your eyes very sensitive for a while to lights. So please use caution opening your eyes, and stay in dim or filtered light at first, until you become accustomed to using them and they become accustomed to being used. All right?” Ursula spoke firmly but kindly. As soon as he nodded, she slowly removed her hand.

Cautiously, he opened his eyelids just a fraction—intense light stung his eyes and he squeezed them closed again for a moment. At least he hadn’t lost any of the little vision he had, he thought to himself as again he opened his eyes slowly—just an eyelash’s breadth at first, then another, and another after that.

At last, feeling somewhat adjusted to the light in the room, he opened them all at once and turned to look at his twin, his expression hopeful.

But instead, where Avani had sat faithfully at his side for the past few days and nights, he instead saw his wife, holding their sleeping newborn son in her arms.

At last, he saw her—saw _them_ —clearly, with his own eyes.


End file.
